


Maelstrom

by ChemiToo



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alfred is so cute and naive here it's kind of hilarious, F/M, M/M, Pirate England (Hetalia), Pirate Everybody, Pirate Spain (Hetalia), Prussia makes the best person to have on board a ship ever, UKUS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-18
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-03-31 04:19:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 125,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3964138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChemiToo/pseuds/ChemiToo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A young carpenter leads a rather boring life until he suddenly finds himself aboard a pirate vessel. Life on ship is exciting, but it may be more perilous than he'd ever imagined. Pretty much everyone's out of character, here. Gratuitous swearing, violence, crude humor, homosexual relationships, adult themes, and pirates.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Alfred ducked behind the stack of crates as two men rushed past. They were giving chase to a group of frightened villagers. One of the men drew a sword as he raced by; Alfred closed his eyes as a sickening gagging sound filled the air--he had to get out of there. Fast.

He hurriedly made his way to the tool shed, keeping low to the ground. Hopefully, he would go unnoticed in the semi-darkness. The sound of gunfire and shouting met his ears as he crept, followed by the splintering of wood from somewhere. He frowned; they were breaking into the houses now. He had to act quickly. Steeling himself, he pressed his back against the wall of the shed and carefully moved toward the doorway. He stopped dead as he heard shuffling from within.

"Shit," he hissed as he threw himself against the wall and slid behind a barrel of tar. Pronounced, determined footsteps casually strode across the boards and out the doorway of the shed. Alfred's breath caught in his chest as a tall, intense-looking man emerged from the building. He was wearing a bright red overcoat and a decorated tri-cornered hat. A sinister-looking rapier gleamed at his side in the dim light of the dying sun. He looked around, head held high as he surveyed the village with bright green eyes. Alfred gulped as he fought to quiet his breathing; this man, surely, was the captain. A small grin crept over the man's face, as if proud of the chaos he had caused, as he sauntered around to the other side of the shed toward the village proper. He shivered--those eyes were positively feral...almost glowing.

Alfred saw his chance and clumsily made his way into the shed, closing the door behind him quietly. He looked around for a weapon of some sort, but it appeared that the other villagers had gotten there first. At least, Alfred hoped it had been the villagers. He swore under his breath and frantically looked around for something he could use to defend himself. His gaze fell upon a black fire iron lying on the floor. He grabbed it, noting that it had some heft to it. The claw-like shape at the end of the poker would surely do some damage as well.

He swiftly approached the door of the tool shed and carefully pried it open, fire iron at the ready. He looked around--the coast was clear. He stepped outside and made a beeline for the village square, breaking out into a full sprint--

He gagged as an arm shot out from behind the corner of the shed and caught him right in the Adam's apple. He hit the ground with a thud, wheezing and spluttering. He felt his stomach plummet as the man he had seen earlier swam into view, surveying him with bemusement in those emerald green eyes.

"Well, now, what have we here?" he teased with a definitively British accent, cocking his head at him. The trinkets on his hat clinked delicately as he moved. Alfred struggled to get up, but was stopped by a heavy boot on his chest.

"Oof!" he wheezed.

"Come, now, we've only just met. You can't be wandering off already. It's rude," the man continued with a crooked grin, "You got a name?"

Alfred tried to answer, but nothing but a soft wheeze came out.

"Sorry, didn't quite catch that," the man said, baring a few teeth as he grinned this time. Smug bastard...he knew full well hitting Alfred in the throat had temporarily taken away his speech.

"Well I'm Arthur," he continued, leaning down so the long trail of feathers from his hat grazed Alfred's face, "Hm?" he muttered as he noticed what was lying in Alfred's outstretched arm. Alfred flung the fire iron at his captor, but was thwarted by Arthur yanking the weapon right out of his hand. He cried out in pain as the crooked claw caught him as it was wrenched from his grasp.

"What's this?" Arthur asked as he increased the pressure of his foot on Alfred's chest, "You weren't planning on clocking me with this thing, were you?"

Alfred just glared at him in response as his bloody hand throbbed angrily. Arthur didn't look amused, glaring right back at him quietly from beneath rather intimidating eyebrows. Alfred squirmed under his gaze, biting his lip nervously. The gesture seemed to please the other man, as the smarmy grin swiftly returned. He stood up and twirled the fire iron in his fingers, taking his foot from Alfred's chest.

"You're either stupid or brave," he declared, "Although right now I can't tell which,"

Alfred angrily grunted at him, rolling onto his side and propping himself up on one elbow. Arthur watched him curiously as he shoved his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose where they belonged.

"What was that?" Arthur teased, "Didn't quite hear you, there,"

"Fuck. Off," Alfred growled as he staggered to his feet.

"Ah. Heard that one," Arthur said flatly as he threw the fire iron onto the ground and drew his sword. Alfred hesitated, watching the other man carefully. Arthur grinned at him, pointing the thin blade at his throat.

"Your name?" he asked.

"Why does it matter?" Alfred spat, "If you're going to kill me, just go ahead and do it,"

"Kill you?" Arthur asked as if perplexed, "No, no, I'm not going to kill you," he answered with a shake of his head, trinkets and beads clinking together softly, "At least, not yet," he added sinisterly, "I'll say it one more time: state your name,"

"Alfred," he answered quietly, thoroughly confused. What game was he playing?

"Do you know who I am, Alfred?" Arthur asked, taking a small step to his left. Alfred countered by taking a small step this right; Arthur saw the gesture and grinned.

"A pirate," Alfred responded mechanically, matching each of the other man's steps so they were moving in a slow circle.

"Not just any pirate, my dear Alfred," Arthur continued, "I'm the captain of a rather famous bunch of scalawags,"

"So?" Alfred spat, realizing with a jolt that he was slowly approaching the abandoned fire iron on the ground. Did the other man realize it too? Was it a trap?

Arthur looked rather offended by that statement, raising an eyebrow at him and frowning.

"What does it matter, who you are?" Alfred blurted in an attempt to distract him. He had to draw his attention away from the weapon on the ground, "The point is that you're trying to destroy this village, and I'm going to stop you,"

"Oh, are you now?" Arthur responded coolly, "And just how do you plan on doing that?"

"I'll find a way," Alfred continued. Only a few more paces, now...

"In case you haven't noticed, the village has already been destroyed," Arthur sneered with a wicked grin, "Unless you count the few bales of hay and what's left of the town hall over there," he added, gesturing toward the village square with his head.

"Unless you think that fire iron is going to be how you strike me down," Arthur added. Alfred froze in mid-grab for the weapon, stunned. Arthur shook his head, clearly amused.

"Come on, you really think I forgot about it?" Arthur teased, "I just wanted to see if you'd be mad enough to try it. You really _are_ brave,"

"Shut up," Alfred growled, reaching down and grabbing the fire iron.

The blade was at his throat in an instant, the cool metal grazing his flesh. He wasn't certain how, but Arthur had managed to get behind him and restrain his arms. He froze, breathing haggardly as Arthur chuckled into his left ear.

"Brave _and_ stupid," Arthur declared, "How about you and I go on a little adventure, eh, Alfred?"

"W-what?" Alfred squeaked.

"It'll be fun," Arthur practically purred. Alfred shuddered; somehow, he was fairly certain they had different ideas on what "fun" was.

"Uh..." Alfred stammered as a series of pops filled the air. Gunfire, coming from the other side of the village.

"Aw, bollocks," Arthur sighed in agitation, "Looks like it's time to go," he said, taking the sword away from Alfred's throat and spinning him around.

Alfred's eyes went wide as the pirate roughly hit him in the stomach. He crumpled to the ground in a heap, the hem of a red coat the last thing that he saw as he passed out.

* * *

Alfred groaned as he awoke, his head lolling lazily onto his shoulder.

"Good morning," someone greeted. Alfred snapped his head up and tried to stand, only to be thwarted by twine wrapped around his wrists, chest, legs...

"H-huh?" he stammered, looking around. Everything was a little blurry without his glasses, but he could clearly make out a figure in bright red standing on the other side of the small room he was in. Arthur was leaning over a table, fiddling with some sort of metal navigational tool on a scrap of tattered parchment. He seemed engrossed in his task, muttering to himself and making notes with a large feathered quill. Alfred struggled, realizing with a jolt that the floor beneath him was moving. Oh, God...was he on a ship? What was worse, he was tied to a chair. He arched his back, struggling against his bonds and shifting the chair backward. The wooden legs shrieked against the floor, breaking Arthur from his trance.

"All right, all right, you've got my attention," he teased, placing the quill back into a black ink bottle and sauntering over toward where Alfred was "seated." He drew another wooden chair over to him and sat on it backwards, leaning his elbows on the back of the chair and grinning at Alfred.

"How are you feeling?" he asked as if they were sitting down for afternoon tea. Alfred glared at him, frowning.

"Oh, I almost forgot--here," Arthur said suddenly, reaching into his coat pocket and producing Alfred's glasses. He gently placed them on Alfred's face and playfully ruffled his hair. Alfred leaned away from him, grunting irritably. Arthur just grinned at him and sat back in his seat.

"Where the hell am I?" Alfred demanded, though his voice shook a little. His throat throbbed, and his abdomen was incredibly sore. He struggled against his bonds indignantly, gritting his teeth.

"In my cabin, on my ship," Arthur answered lazily, "I wouldn't thrash about too much, there," he warned, "I bandaged up your hand, and I don't want you ruining my hard work,"

Alfred ignored him, tossing his shoulders from side to side and trying to free his legs from the twine binding them at the ankles. Arthur sighed, reaching over and grabbing a fistful of Alfred's bangs. Alfred squeaked, looking up at him defiantly.

"Not too good a listener, are you?" he said flatly, as he gave Alfred's head a rough shake, "You nearly knocked my bloody teeth out when I poured some rum on your hand so it wouldn't get bloody infected, you know," he hissed, "I had to tie you up before you hurt yourself, _or me_ ," he added darkly.

Alfred just blinked at him.

"Don't remember that, do ya?" Arthur asked with a chuckle, "Thought that might happen; you were pretty out of it. So--don't struggle. Got it?" he asked pointedly, tightening his grip on Alfred's hair.

"Y-yeah," Alfred stammered, wanting very much for the man to let go of him. Arthur seemed pleased by his answer, releasing him and resting his arms on the back of his own chair.

"Good," he said brightly, "Now, then--tell me a little about yourself,"

Alfred just stared at him suspiciously. What was this, an interview? The other man just looked at him expectantly, grinning slightly. Alfred hadn't really gotten a good look at him before, but the late morning sun drifting in through the windows of Arthur's cabin illuminated the other man's face quite well. He was...very handsome, actually, with bright green eyes and unruly blonde hair that poked out from beneath his tri-cornered hat. He had small earrings--tiny gold hoops, barely noticeable were he not so close. A jade brooch glinted on the collar of his shirt, which was embroidered with tiny red stitching. His hat in itself gave Alfred plenty to look at--all manner of trinkets, beads, tiny coins, and feathers spilled out of it in an elegant train over Arthur's right shoulder and onto his back.

"Like what you see?" Arthur teased, noting his obvious staring, "By all means, keep looking,"

"Shut up," Alfred grumbled as he felt his face reddening, "Why are you keeping me here?"

Arthur didn't answer immediately, but tilted his head to the side with a series of soft clinks and stared at Alfred for a while. His gaze roved from Alfred's hair, then to his face, neck, chest, abdomen...

"What?!" Alfred exclaimed, feeling himself turning an even deeper shade of scarlet. If this man wasn't so damned handsome, not to mention that voice of his...he caught himself wondering what that voice would sound like if he whispered Alfred's name into his ear--wait, what? Alfred hurriedly shoved those thoughts aside as he gulped. Had it gotten hotter in there since he had woken up? Certainly it must have, for him to break out into a sweat so suddenly--

"Excitable, aren't we?" Arthur mumbled, looking rather pleased. He stood up and paced around the room, "What occupation do you have? What do you do for a living?"

"I'm a carpenter," Alfred answered warily, craning his neck to keep the pirate in his line of sight.

"Ah, that's good," Arthur praised, pausing and pivoting on his heel to pace back in front of Alfred, "Carpenters are always handy to have around,"

"...have around?" Alfred repeated, uncertain that he liked where this was going.

"Well, of course," Arthur laughed with a dismissive wave of his hand, "There's always repairs to be made on a ship,"

"Wait...what?" Alfred stammered, "You're making me part of your crew?"

"...more or less," Arthur answered after a brief pause, turning and sitting back in his chair in front of Alfred, "Only you'd be reporting solely to me," he added softly, reaching up and stroking the side of Alfred's face.

Whoa.

Alfred recoiled in surprise, leaning away from his touch to give himself some time to process what was going on (and what he'd _like_ to have going on), but Arthur was persistent. He walked his fingers up the side of Alfred's head and into his hair, playfully flicking the cowlick on the top of his head.

Alfred's eyes sprang wide open at the gesture as a low-pitched moan escaped from deep in the back of his throat, piercing the awkward silence. Arthur's hand froze in place as he looked at Alfred in surprise. He tilted his head curiously as Alfred looked away in shame. Oh, this was not good.

"Well, that was a lovely little sound," Arthur commented as he licked his lips, "I'd very much like to hear it again," he purred, trailing his fingers through Alfred's hair and gently stroking the upright tuft of blonde with a gloved index finger. Alfred hissed, leaning backward in an attempt to escape his touch. Too fast. Everything was happening FAR too fast, and--

Arthur got out of his chair and sank onto Alfred's lap, persistently prodding his hair inquisitively. Alfred bit his lip and slammed his eyes shut. He was not going to make a sound, damn it, he was not going to--

He blushed furiously as a strangled moan escaped his lips. Arthur gently tilted Alfred's face toward him, green eyes locked intently onto hazy blue ones as he continued moving along the tuft of hair with a slim finger. Alfred's breath hitched in his chest and he yelped, twisting against his bonds and groaning.

"W-wait..." Alfred whispered, but was cut off by the other man's lips pressing down on his. He kept teasing his hair, stirring Alfred into a frenzy as he fiercely kissed him back. He leaned back as a sensation crept downward, clouding his thoughts and--

"Oh," Arthur said suddenly, looking down. He looked back up at Alfred and grinned slyly, "Hello, there," he whispered, pushing Alfred's knees to either side of the chair.

"W-what are you--?" Alfred asked breathlessly, but was cut off as Arthur gently ground his hips against his. Alfred cried out, arching his back. He wasn't sure how long this went on for, but the sensations were indescribable. And, oh, he was still touching his hair, and breathing into his ear, and creating exquisite friction on the steadily rising bulge in his trousers, and...

Alfred lost track of what he was saying as the world dissolved into release, loudly crying out and going limp. He breathed into Arthur's shoulder for a moment, reeling. Arthur slowly moved backward, setting back onto the edge of the chair. He lovingly stroked Alfred's face, planting soft kisses all along his jawbone and neck as Alfred relaxed, sinking into his chair tiredly.

"Beautiful," Arthur commented breathlessly, "That was beautiful, Love,"

Alfred wanted to angrily retort, but couldn't. He felt light-headed, confused, and only managed a slurred "Don't do that."

"Hm?" Arthur asked, "Don't do what?"

"M-my hair," Alfred managed, "Don't do that again with my hair,"

"Yes, that was...unusual," Arthur said softly, stealing a look up at the top of Alfred's head, "But it drew out such a delightful response from you, though," he said regretfully, "Didn't think a wiry thing like you could make that kind of noise," he added with a sly grin.

"Promise," Alfred blurted. Arthur looked at him for a moment before nodding.

"All right: I promise I won't touch your hair like that again," Arthur said, raising one hand and placing the other over his heart as if taking an oath, "At least, not without your permission," he added with a grunt as he buried his face in Alfred's neck. Alfred gasped, painfully aware of how he was literally being sat upon, how the other man was steadily growing more and more excited with each quivering breath Alfred drew.

Alfred tried to collect his thoughts, but found it impossible. Fragments of various phrases flittered across his muddled mind. God, he was tired. He wanted to sleep, but he wanted to stay awake and see what the pirate had in store for him, too. He wanted t--oh, what was this man _doing_ to him? He wasn't quite sure, but--ah, what was _that_? Oh, that was nice, the way his breath tickled his ear just now...no. He should just stop. Stop and think and--was that his tongue sliding down his neck just now? Stop it. He should just--oh, but he liked it. God help him, he liked it, and--OH. Oh, what was--?

"Ah--!" Alfred whimpered as Arthur's lips caught his again, kissing him fiercely and deeply. Alfred leaned into him as the captain gently explored Alfred's mouth with his tongue. They broke apart, panting for breath, with green eyes hungrily locked onto blue ones. Alfred felt like he couldn't breathe, a fly caught in the spider's web.

"Alfred," Arthur whispered huskily, his breath tickling his ear, "Can I...take you?"

"H-huh?" Alfred blurted, realizing with a jolt that he was getting turned on again below the waist. Arthur moaned softly, running his lips across Alfred's jaw and onto his neck; Alfred moaned back approvingly.

"Can I take you, Love?" he repeated.

"Mm..." Alfred hesitated, unable to respond properly as Arthur shifted his hips and did...something. Alfred gasped; whatever he was doing, he wanted more.

"Well?" Arthur pressed.

"Yes," Alfred whispered, forming the word he'd wanted to at long last, "Yes... "

He did "take" him, and it had been an experience. Alfred wasn't certain of what exactly happened, actually...one minute, he was hopelessly tied to a chair. The next, he was lying in Arthur's arms on his bed, clothing and glasses were gone, and every inch of him was being gently explored and kissed. "Relax, Alfred," Arthur had coached...and then he was inside, listening and responding to Alfred's every moan, gasp, and sigh with gusto. It hadn't been exactly comfortable at first, but not for long. It had actually been...um...quite the opposite, he admitted with a furious blush.

Arthur sighed happily as he cradled Alfred next to him, murmuring declarations of love into his hair. Alfred couldn't respond; he was still trying to process what had happened. He had just...with a total stranger...

Arthur seemed to sense his unease and rolled him over onto his side. He smiled at him, rubbing Alfred's shoulder gently.

"How was it, Love?" he whispered, "Did you enjoy yourself?"

"U-um..." Alfred stammered, looking away in embarrassment. The other man gently tilted his face back toward him.

"Nothing to be ashamed of," he reassured him with a soft smile, "You were brilliant,"

"I, uh...okay," Alfred answered reluctantly, rolling onto his back and turning his attention onto the ceiling. The sheets rustled and Arthur was sitting up, looking down at him.

"First time with a man?" he asked knowingly.

Alfred hesitated, and Arthur caught on right away.

"First time _ever_?" Arthur asked with a sly grin.

"Shut up," Alfred hissed, rolling onto his side and turning away from the other man angrily.

"Oh, come on, don't get cross with me," Arthur laughed, scooting over and possessively draping his arm over Alfred.

"Then stop making fun of me," Alfred snapped.

"I'm not making fun of you," Arthur sighed, "Actually, I'm rather flattered that you chose me to be your first," he added as he planted kisses along Alfred's neck and shoulder. Ah, his lips were surprisingly soft and--wait... _what?_

He frowned as Arthur continued to work his way down onto Alfred's chest. It felt wonderful, but Alfred's anger overpowered the sensation and he sat bolt upright. He winced; between his stomach, throat, and more recently, everything below his waist, sudden movements were not a good idea. He swayed a little, but quickly recovered as Arthur watched him quietly.

"Chose you?" Alfred blurted incredulously, "Chose?! You kidnapped me!" he cried.

"That's ridiculous," Arthur scoffed, "You're no kid," he stated, reaching out and stroking Alfred's hipbone, "In fact, you are very much an adult, Love,"

"Stoppit!" Alfred squeaked as he scooted out of his grasp, "Would you prefer 'took me hostage,' then?" he shouted. Arthur frowned at him thoughtfully.

"No," he answered after a few moments, "I had no intention of giving you back," he explained matter-of-factly. Alfred just stared at him, and Arthur grinned.

"Unbelievable," Alfred sighed, running his hands through his hair, "What the hell did I do...?" he lamented. Arthur watched him carefully for a few moments, then sighed and sat up.

"Alfred," he said, causing the other man to look at him, "Listen, I may have been a little...hasty," he admitted, "But this isn't just a one-time thing," he added with a smile that made Alfred shiver, "At least, if that's what you want,"

Alfred paused; he was fairly certain that the other man was sincere. But, then again, he wasn't exactly of sound judgment at the moment. His mind was still reeling with sensations and emotions and sounds...Arthur seemed to sense his confusion and gingerly took his un-bandaged hand in both of his.

"Give me a chance? I swear I'll make it worth your while," he said quietly as he gently massaged Alfred's palm. Alfred hesitated, then nodded. What option did he have? Arthur smiled and wrapped Alfred in a consuming embrace. Alfred sighed into his chest and gradually began nodding off. Arthur hummed soothingly, rubbing his back as he fell asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

He awoke to a fully-clothed Arthur sitting beside him in one of the chairs, humming quietly and poring over a book. Alfred hesitated before saying anything, recalling what had happened and blushing. As if sensing he was awake, Arthur looked down at him and smiled.

"Hello there, Love," he said softly.

"Erm, hello," Alfred greeted awkwardly as he sat up. He drew the sheets up to his chest as Arthur snorted. "What?" he demanded flatly.

"Nothing," Arthur insisted as he shook his head and put his book down on the mattress, "You're just funny, that's all. It's not like I haven't already seen everything," he added when Alfred cocked an eyebrow at him. Alfred blushed, looking to the other side of the room. He hadn't noticed earlier, but there were shelves lined with all manner of books.

"You like to read, Alfred?" Arthur asked, following his gaze.

"Yeah, sometimes," Alfred answered, "Apparently you do as well,"

"I like to pick up a book at every port I visit," Arthur said, causing Alfred to turn and look back at him. The man was looking over at him with a thoughtful smirk, "That way I always have a new story to read,"

Alfred nodded, looking down as his stomach rumbled loudly.

"Whoops," he muttered as he folded his arms over his abdomen nervously. Arthur laughed, throwing his head back in amusement.

"I take it you're hungry?" he teased as he rose from his seat, "Get dressed; I've got some stuff,"

Alfred waited until the other man was safely on the other side of the room before leaping out from beneath the covers and retrieving his clothing and glasses. He was surprised to find them neatly laid out on the chair which had previously been his prison, save for his trousers, which were draped over the back of the chair as if out to dry...?

"I took the liberty of cleaning up," Arthur said slyly from the other end of the room. Alfred felt himself turning scarlet as he stole a look at himself--he wasn't joking. He gulped and practically ripped his clothing in his haste to put it on. By the time he turned around, Arthur was sitting with one ankle resting on the other knee in a chair at the table. He held a teacup daintily in his hands, sipping it and watching Alfred over the top of it with bright green eyes.

Alfred cautiously grabbed the chair and set it on the other side of the small table. A cup of tea and a plate with bread and a lump of cheese awaited him. He sat down and awkwardly took a sip of tea, stealing a look at Arthur over the top of his cup. The other man was focused on his bread, taking a bite and then snapping his attention back onto Alfred, who jumped. Thankfully, he managed not to spill his tea.

"So," Arthur began, "Your name is Alfred The Carpenter, and you like to read. What else?"

"Not much else to tell, really," Alfred admitted with a shrug as he took a bite of his bread, "How about you? I practically know nothing about you,"

"Oh, I think you know a great deal about me," Arthur said silkily as he raised an eyebrow at him, smirking wickedly.

"You know what I mean," Alfred pressed as he fought not to blush and lost.

Arthur looked up at the ceiling, absently tapping his bread against his jaw.

"Hmm," he pondered, "Well, I'm a pirate, sailing the seven seas for gold and glory," he recited mechanically.

"Is that from a book?" Alfred asked.

"I think so, yeah," Arthur mused with a grin as he leaned on the two back legs of the chair, "That just about sums me up,"

"...why were you in the village?" Alfred asked hesitantly as he stared into his tea. As much as he hated to kill the good mood, this was a question he couldn't ignore. Arthur was silent for a time, save for a soft tearing noise as he bit into his bread. Alfred stole a look up at him; the man's expression was grave as he stared out the adjacent window.

"Taking back what was stolen from me and my crew," he answered cryptically, refusing to meet Alfred's gaze, "That place was full of bloody thieves," he added darkly.

"The villagers stole from you?" Alfred asked, suddenly feeling sick. He had seen Arthur's men race through there, cutting down women and men indiscriminately--

"Yes," Arthur responded curtly as he took another sip of his tea, "They'd been receiving shipments from their partner who stole our supplies from us. Some of 'em were probably the ones who actually did the stealing," he added darkly.

"And that justifies destroying the village?" Alfred blurted, hardly believing what he was hearing. This was different from the man he had known only a few hours before. The surprisingly tender, gentle man who had caressed him, held him, and oh so _carefully_ explored him and to whom Alfred had gladly surrendered his...Alfred blanched. This man had tricked Alfred into giving something he had previously assumed that he never would, and to a filthy pirate--a murderer, no less. He glowered at Arthur, suddenly brimming with rage.

"You know full-well that was a den of goddamn smugglers," Arthur said flatly, turning back toward Alfred with a soft tinkling of his hat, "We were there to get back what was ours. It's business,"

"Which had to involve killing women?" Alfred spat. Arthur was quiet for a moment, staring at him defiantly before turning his head. He sighed, removing his hat and running his hands through his unruly blonde hair.

"They stole from us right alongside the men," Arthur said decidedly, "You ought to know that, you were stuck there," he pointed out.

"I'm not _from_ there," Alfred blurted hotly, "I was there to apprentice,"

Arthur looked at him as if seeing him for the first time since the conversation turned sour, sitting straight up in his seat and placing his hat on the table beside him. Alfred put his hands in his lap to keep them from shaking. What was he saying, exactly? Who the hell had he been staying with? They had seemed friendly enough, albeit a bit stand-offish.

"Apprentice," Arthur repeated thoughtfully, "With carpentry?" he pried.

"Yeah, shipbuilding," Alfred responded shakily.

"Ah," Arthur said knowingly, "Yes, they were fairly good at that, I'll give 'em that much. How long had you been living there?"

"I had just arrived two days prior," Alfred answered quietly, fighting not to get sick all over Arthur's table, "I hadn't even learned the basics yet," he lamented.

Arthur was quiet for a time, looking over at Alfred with a worried frown.

"You would have found out about 'em sooner or later," Arthur reasoned, "They've a nasty habit of selling un-suspecting folks into bondage, you know--hell, it's a good thing I found you when I did," he said lightly, noting Alfred's anxiety. Unfortunately, this only seemed to make matters worse. Alfred turned white and looked across the table at him in terror.

"What?" Alfred asked quietly, "Bondage?"

"Well, yeah, that's what that lot tends to do," Arthur pointed out, "They were probably waiting for the next ship to come through or something so they could sell you--are you all right?" he asked as Alfred turned an even paler shade of white.

"Why did you take me?" Alfred asked apprehensively. Arthur smiled, leaning onto the table casually.

"Because you told me that I could, Love," he answered with a crooked grin.

"No, not that," Alfred said anxiously, "I mean, why did you bring me onto your ship?"

Arthur was quiet for a moment, and the silence absolutely terrified Alfred. The other man surveyed him with those intense green eyes of his, sizing him up and thinking of a clever response, no doubt. Alfred could hear the blood pounding in his ears, steadily increasing in volume as he anxiously awaited a response.

"I was impressed by you," Arthur answered finally, shrugging and smirking to himself, "I didn't think a scrawny thing like you'd have it in you to take me on. Thought you'd just run for it, but you tried to hit me in the face with a poker," he finished, the smirk giving way to a genuine smile, "I knew you were something special,"

Alfred would have blushed were his heart not already trying to slam its way out of his chest. His response had taken far too long--was Arthur planning on _selling_ him? Was that why he--?

"B-but why knock me out?" Alfred stammered. Arthur sighed, looking down at the table in what could have been shame, but Alfred was too busy panicking to tell.

"There were reinforcements arriving," Arthur explained to the table, "We had to hurry and get out of there before they caught us both," he elaborated, looking up at Alfred sheepishly, "I'm...sorry about that part, Love, but I really didn't have time to explain," he apologized with a shrug.

Alfred nodded slowly, mind racing.

"I'd fancy a breath of fresh air, myself--how about you?" Arthur offered as he got up and stretched. Alfred barely heard what he was saying over his panic. _"They've a nasty habit of selling un-suspecting folks into bondage, you know..."_

"You coming?" Arthur asked from beside him. Alfred jumped; he hadn't even noticed the man move.

"Uh, yeah," Alfred answered as he shot up from his seat to follow him. He managed to take three steps before a dizzy spell overtook him, and he wobbled and fell backward.

"Whoa!" Arthur exclaimed as he clumsily caught Alfred before he hit the floor. Alfred looked up at him, dazed.

"You all right?" Arthur asked worriedly, hoisting him up into a standing position and looking him over.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Alfred lied, as the room was still swimming. A dull ringing reverberated in his ears, but he did his best to ignore it.

"Feeling a might dizzy, Love?" Arthur pressed, clearly not buying the act.

"No, I'm fine," Alfred insisted, pushing away from the other man and taking a step--and failing. Arthur swept him up into his arms and promptly laid him out on his bed. Alfred exhaled, defeated, as he realized how easily the other man had picked him up like a ragdoll.

"All right, Alfred, what's going on?" Arthur asked in a tone that clearly said he wasn't going to accept "nothing" as an answer.

"I just got a little light-headed, that's all," Alfred answered truthfully, though he left the crippling anxiety accompanying the dizziness out of his explanation, "I'll be fine in a minute," he said hopefully. Arthur frowned at him worriedly, removing his hat and pressing his lips onto Alfred's forehead. Alfred blushed, looking away.

"You seem a bit clammy," Arthur observed as he tugged the blankets out from under him and carefully pulled them over Alfred, "Maybe you caught a chill?" he suggested.

"Yeah, maybe," Alfred agreed nervously, shivering. Arthur shrugged his red jacket off of his shoulders and gently laid that on top of Alfred as well.

"This ought to help a little," he said with a smile as he leaned forward and kissed Alfred's forehead once again, "I'll fetch you some more hot tea,"

"No, you don't have to do that--" Alfred insisted, suddenly embarrassed. What was he, a child?

"I know, but I want to," Arthur cut him off with a shake of his head, "You stay here and get warm; I'll be right back," he added as he donned his hat, sauntered out of the cabin, and shut the door behind him. Alfred sat bolt upright, dizziness forgotten as the adrenaline started kicking in. Based on the light from the window, it was about mid-day, maybe early afternoon. They couldn't be that far from shore yet, could they? He cursed under his breath, throwing the coverings off of him and bounding out of bed. He shuddered, grabbing Arthur's coat and pulling it on. He made a beeline for the table--he had seen a map there earlier when they were eating. He pored over it, biting his lip and cursing the fact that he knew virtually nothing about sailing. The map was dotted all manner of lines and symbols, all in what he assumed was Arthur's tidy scrawl. He frowned, trying to make sense of what he was looking at. The island he assumed was where the village was lay on the right-hand side of the map. So, if that was the island...he cursed again, tracing a thick black dotted line with his finger. Surely, this was the route Arthur was working on earlier. It had to be--the other land masses were on the side of the map that was rolled up.

"Okay," he coached himself, "So, if this is land...then we're...right...here?" he guessed, resting his finger on a point labeled with what he assumed was today's date. If he was right, he could easily steal a longboat and row to shore. Right. Now all that remained was to find the longboats. They'd be out on the main deck, probably, in plain sight. He frowned; that meant the crew would be able to see what was going on as well. Best to wait until nightfall.

"Okay, Alfred, you can do this," he said to himself, taking a deep breath. He exhaled it quickly as he heard heavy footfalls coming from outside of the cabin, "Shit!" he hissed as he high-tailed it back over to the bed and leapt under the covers. He just managed to pull the blankets up to his chin as the door to the cabin swung open. Arthur emerged, holding a cup of tea on a saucer.

"Nice and hot!" he declared as he kicked the door closed and dragged a chair over to sit next to Alfred. He paused before sitting, giving Alfred a cockeyed smile, "Like my coat, do you?"

"Huh?" Alfred asked, noting with a jolt that he'd forgotten to lay it on top of the covers as Arthur had left it, "Oh," he blurted, embarrassed. Arthur laughed, shaking his head and motioning for Alfred to sit up.

"It suits you," Arthur declared as he handed the tea to Alfred.

"...thanks," Alfred answered quietly as he took a sip.

"This ought to fix you right up," Arthur said confidently, "I had the cook grind up some spices and things in it--supposed to help with this kind of thing," he shrugged.

"The cook?" Alfred asked absently as he took another sip, "How many people are on board this ship, anyway?"

Arthur smiled at him, raising an eyebrow before answering.

"Oh, about...fifteen, give or take a few," he reasoned, "Why do you ask?"

"Just wondering," Alfred said as he paused to take another dreg of tea. It was quite good, actually, whatever was in it, "I haven't seen the ship yet, so I'm not sure how big it is,"

"Ah," Arthur mused with a nod. Alfred breathed a sigh of relief--hopefully he hadn't roused the man's suspicions, "She's not a huge vessel, but she's large enough..."

Alfred listened as Arthur went on about details of the ship, talking about where they've sailed and places he'd like to take him, of treasures they'd gathered and where they were planning on going next. Alfred had to admit, he was intrigued by everything Arthur had to say. He enjoyed watching Arthur's eyes light up with excitement as he spoke, the way his voice inflected to emphasize some obscure detail. He was in his element when he wove tales like this, and Alfred found himself entranced. He wasn't sure how long he sat there, hanging onto his every word, but his teacup had been empty for a while before Arthur suggested they venture out onto the deck, if he were well enough. Alfred allowed him to lead him outside, Arthur's strong arm draped across his shoulders as they walked out into the late afternoon.

"Wow," Alfred breathed as he beheld the majestic sea, felt the salt spray dapple his face. He squinted; something was in the distance. Land?

"What's that? An island?" he asked, pointing out toward the horizon. It was farther away than he'd hoped, based upon the map, but it was still as good a chance as any to escape.

"That's right," Arthur praised, drawing Alfred close to him and pointing toward his left, "And that way is where we're headed," he explained.

"Where're we going?" Alfred asked, looking up at him. His heart fluttered in his chest at how Arthur's bangs and feathers in his hat bounced playfully in the breeze...he looked positively majestic.

"Out to open water for a while, then toward the south," Arthur said cryptically, "I hear there's treasure on an island off the coast there, and we're going to find it," he added with a crooked grin that made Alfred blush.

"We?" Alfred repeated. Arthur looked down at him, his grin widening into a full smile.

"Of course," Arthur answered as he gently cupped Alfred's face in both of his hands, "I wouldn't want to go adventuring without _you_ ," he added, drawing him in for a kiss. Alfred enthusiastically reciprocated, throwing his arms around the other man's neck. It felt right, being with him, holding him this way and being held. He couldn't be trying to...sell him, could he? Alfred pushed the thought down, a lead weight sinking into his stomach.

"Aren't you cold without your jacket?" he asked hesitantly after they separated.

"Don't worry about that," Arthur dismissed, "It's not bad out here with the sun out,"

Alfred nodded, looking out at the horizon and weighing his options. He had only known the man for less than twenty-four hours, for God's sake--surely there was no future with someone like him. Especially someone who had been so _bold_ after only just meeting him. Tying him to a chair like some kind of animal. Pah. Although...Alfred found himself blushing again as his mind called up details from earlier that morning. He could lie to himself all he wanted, but his body had responded more than enthusiastically to Arthur's advances, and had been excited about every second of it. It shamed him to admit just how much he wanted to experience it all again. He frowned; he felt disgusting, somehow. Crude. It was only lust, he told himself, nothing more to it than that. But, if that was true, why was he so torn about trying to leave?

"You all right?" Arthur asked after a moment passed, "You're very quiet,"

"Yeah, I'm just thinking," Alfred answered before he could stop himself.

"Oh? About what?" Arthur asked kindly. Alfred froze. "Planning my escape" probably wasn't an answer that would go over well with the pirate.

"How I'd like to see the rest of the ship," he blurted instead, looking up at Arthur and smiling. Arthur didn't seem surprised, chuckling to himself.

"Of course you would," he muttered, "Well? Shall we?" he gestured, draping an arm around Alfred's shoulders and leading him out onto the main deck. The ship was bustling with activity, with men working on various tasks. Some of them peered up at him as he walked by; their stares made Alfred a bit nervous, but Arthur's arm over his shoulders gave him courage. Arthur led the both of them toward a thin man standing at the helm of the vessel. He was about Alfred's height, he wagered, with flyaway reddish-blonde hair and spectacles. A peculiar curl of hair shot up from the part at the top of his head and bounced playfully in the breeze.

"Afternoon, Mat," Arthur greeted as the two of them approached. The man turned around, nodding to Arthur respectfully.

"Hello there, Captain," Mat greeted with a surprisingly soft voice, turning his gaze onto Alfred, "Ah, good to see you're feeling better," he said kindly.

"Uh...thanks," Alfred hesitated, blushing as he realized that Arthur must have told all of the crewmembers about him.

"Alfred: this is my first mate, Mathieu Williams," Arthur introduced.

"Just Mat's fine," Mathieu corrected with a grin, "Pleasure to meet you, Alfred," he added.

"Likewise," Alfred responded mechanically.

"Cap'n!" someone shouted from behind them, "We got a problem over here!"

"Right!" Arthur called over his shoulder, "Be right back," he said to Alfred, patting his shoulder kindly, "Mat, could you keep him company for a bit?"

"Sure thing, Captain," Mat said with a nod. Alfred watched as Arthur gracefully bounded over down to where two men were working, placing his hands on his hips as he listened to them.

"He's something, isn't he?" Mat asked, making Alfred jump. He had nearly forgotten that the other man was standing there, he was so damned quiet.

"Erm, yeah, he is," Alfred stumbled.

"You like him?" Mat pried, "Because he certainly likes you," he added. Alfred turned to look at him; the man was smiling at him knowingly.

"Yeah, I do," Alfred blurted as his mind raced, "But...what?"

Mat laughed quietly, shaking his head as he turned back toward the ship's wheel.

"I've been his first mate for years, and he has _never_ brought anybody back into his cabin before," he pointed out slyly.

"Really?" Alfred asked, genuinely surprised. Mat nodded.

"You're the very first one," Mat continued as he spun the wheel slightly counterclockwise, "We were all shocked when he showed up carrying you--I thought it was a joke at first,"

"Thanks," Alfred muttered, annoyed.

"Oh, don't get me wrong--it's just unusual for him to get worked up about someone is all I'm saying," Mat hurriedly explained, turning back toward him and bowing apologetically, "You're a big deal to him, that's for sure," he paused, looking him over, "Hell, he even gave you his jacket. I was pretty sure it was sewn onto his body or something,"

Alfred blushed, looking out at the sea anxiously.

"The guys were all taking bets on how fast he'd put the make on you," Mat added with a grin, "Most of the fellas said it'd be a few days, but I'm pretty sure it's gonna be less than that. The Captain could charm the pants off the King of England if he were so inclined," Mat laughed. For his part, Alfred had managed not to run screaming back into Arthur's cabin, but it was a struggle.

"W-wait," he stammered as Mat turned to look over at him, "Hold on--you...you were betting on when Arthur...?"

"Vas gonna fuck you?" another man with a Germanic accent guffawed from below the deck with the ship's wheel. He had silver-like hair and striking eyes--almost red.

"Gil, come on," Mat scolded, "Mellow it down a little--he's new,"

"Ja, ja, vatever," Gil laughed as he strode past the helm and into another part of the ship. Mat shook his head and turned back toward Alfred.

"Listen, I'm sorry--that was stupid of me to say," Mat apologized, "It's a bit boring out here at sea, so the guys have to have _something_ to talk about, you know?"

"...not really," Alfred scoffed, feeling heat rising in his cheeks and thinking he must be rivaling Arthur's jacket for a more vivid shade of red. "And how the hell would you know?" Alfred blurted, thoroughly offended, "What, are you guys peeking into his cabin or something?" he demanded hotly. Mat shook his head.

"No, nothing like that," he insisted, looking genuinely apologetic, "We were just kidding around was all. I should have realized you wouldn't think it was funny," he added.

"Yeah, well, it's not," Alfred snapped.

Mat sighed, clapping Alfred on the shoulder.

"Look, I'm sorry. The gents and I don't mean anything by it," he insisted, "Just friendly banter...you get that all of the time on this ship. They just pick on each other, that's all,"

"Sure," Alfred agreed, "Sorry to get upset about it," he heard himself say, though he felt quite otherwise. Mat perked up at his words, though, and seemed more relaxed.

"It's fine," Mat reassured him, turning the wheel clockwise for half a turn, "How are you liking life on the ship so far?"

"It's exciting," Alfred answered, "I've never been on a pirate ship before,"

"Yeah, most folks haven't," Mat chuckled, "You came on board at a good time, too," he continued excitedly, "The Captain's got a new route he wants to try out. We're gonna be rich,"

"Really?" Alfred pried excitedly.

"I think so," Mat practically whispered; Alfred had to lean forward to hear him properly, "He's never led us wrong before," he added as heavy footsteps announced Arthur's return to the deck.

"Ready to see the rest?" he asked Alfred, who nodded cheerily.

"See you later, then, Alfred!" Mat said kindly as Arthur escorted him around the ship.


	3. Chapter 3

Alfred lay awake as Arthur mumbled something in his sleep and rolled over. He had shown Alfred the layout of the ship, all right--the Scarlet Tern, it was called--and he had seen those damned longboats. He had to wait until after midnight, when most of the crew had gone to sleep. He'd only have one shot at this, and he had to make it count before the ship was too far from shore for him to make it.

He frowned as Arthur sighed, murmuring quietly as he dreamt. Part of him wanted to stay--this man had been a bit...forward...but he wasn't that bad. He had been surprisingly gentle, actually...and quite persuasive. Although Alfred had been hell-bent on staying awake and reading to wait for Arthur to fall asleep, he somehow had ended up wrapped in Arthur's arms, curled against him contentedly. The pirate hadn't tried anything like they had done earlier, perfectly pleased to just hold him for a while and murmur tales of his adventures into his ear. Alfred had been all too happy to comply; Arthur was a brilliant storyteller.

But still, he wagered as he slowly slipped out of bed, this man was a pirate. A murderer. A thief. And, he thought with a sinking feeling, a potential slave trader. His best chance for survival was to leave, and fast. Steeling his courage, he cautiously pulled open the cabin door. He stole a look at Arthur's sleeping form before stepping outside and closing the door behind him. He shivered; the night air was damp and cold. He crept along the deck, keeping his head low. He pressed his back against the wall of one of the upper decks--nobody in sight. The longboats called to him just up ahead, their lacquered hulls glinting in the dim light of the half-moon.

 _"Just a little farther,"_ he coached himself as he reached one of them, sliding his hand along its hull in triumph. He looked behind him; nobody in sight. Maybe everyone was asleep? If so, this was perfect. He positioned himself behind the pulleys and untied the rope holding the longboat aloft. He held onto it, gently nudging the boat so it hovered over the rail. He jumped as he heard a sound from somewhere and lost his grip on the rope. The pulley shrieked at him as he frantically grabbed for the rope and yanked with all of his might. Alfred yelped as the longboat lobbed clumsily against the side of the ship with a mighty clunk. He panicked--surely they had heard that. He scrambled to pull on the rope, pushing the boat over the side of the ship--and jumped as he heard voices approaching.

"What the hell was that?" one of them asked groggily.

"Aw, fuck it," Alfred whispered as he jumped into the longboat and held on for dear life. The boat tumbled to the black water below with a loud hissing as the rope unraveled. He nearly fell out of the vessel as it hit the waves with a loud splash. If the entire crew hadn't been awoken before, they certainly were now. He could hear footsteps bounding in his direction, see lantern light steadily bobbing toward him and peering down over the side.

"The longboat came lose?" one of them suggested.

"No, I--is there someone inside?" another blurted. Alfred hurriedly put one oar into place, then the other. He had to start paddling or he was screwed.

"Haul him up," a stern voice commanded, not sounding at all pleased. Alfred froze--Arthur. He jumped as the longboat suddenly lurched upward--the ropes were still connected.

Alfred cursed, grabbing the cleats and pulling at the ropes to no avail. They were tied in some intricate knot--he couldn't tell where the damned things began or ended. He leaned over the side and prepared to jump.

"Don't you dare," Arthur warned. Alfred froze, stealing a look back up at the ship. In the lights of he wasn't sure how many lanterns, he could make out the silhouette of a man wearing a feathered, tri-cornered hat.

"He's right, Alfred," Mat's soft voice called, "There's no land for miles--you'll drown for sure,"

Alfred gulped, realizing with an unpleasant jolt that he was already more than halfway back onto the deck. He looked down at his quivering hands, cursing his stupidity. So close. He had been so close. As the boat was heaved back up and onto the deck, he reluctantly stepped out of it and onto the planks. A pair of boots and the hem of a bright red jacket stood in front of him, silent. He wouldn't meet his gaze, preferring to stare in terror at the floor instead--

He yelped as Arthur grabbed a fistful of his hair, turning his face up toward him. To say that he wasn't happy was an understatement--Alfred was fairly certain he was verging on homicidal. His sharp green eyes were narrowed into slits, mouth contorted into a stern frown.

"At ease, gentlemen," Arthur said, not taking his eyes from Alfred's. None of the crew members moved, eager to watch the show. "I SAID, at ease," Arthur snapped, turning to his left. A few of them jumped, mumbling a few "Yes, Cap'n"s before disappearing into the other parts of the ship.

"OHO! You're in trouble now, lover boy!" the man called Gil from earlier called, causing the men on the deck to erupt into laughter as they descended back into the barracks. Alfred swallowed hard, listening to the sounds of the other men's footsteps getting steadily farther away. Arthur glared down at him silently, letting go of his hair and roughly grabbing onto his hand instead--the injured one.

"Ow!" Alfred yelped as Arthur literally dragged him across the deck and down to his cabin. He opened the door, shoved Alfred inside, and slammed the door behind him before speaking.

"What the hell were you thinking?" he asked quietly, though Alfred would have preferred it if he had yelled. The quietness was worse.

Alfred couldn't answer, finding himself at a loss for words. Arthur angrily slammed his fist against the wall, making Alfred jump. He staggered backward a few paces before he managed to stop himself.

"Well?" Arthur demanded icily.

"I-I was..." Alfred trailed off, cursing himself for sounding like a child with his hand caught in the cookie jar. He mustered his courage, raising his head high and looking Arthur straight in the face. Arthur stared right back at him, unmoving.

"I was going to leave for shore," Alfred said as firmly as he could manage, "To that island off the starboard side," he elaborated. Arthur cocked an eyebrow in disbelief, glaring at him for a few moments before responding.

"Were you, now?" Arthur snapped, "And what would you do once you were there, hm? Assuming you actually were able to find your way over to said island in the dark with no compass, and managed to row the approximately twenty-eight miles to get there?"

Alfred blinked--it hadn't looked that far away on the map.

"I knew where it was," he responded hotly, "And I would have made a camp for myself," he added. He was not going to let Arthur guilt him about this. He wasn't his property, damn it.

"Ah, and what would you have done for food? Supplies?" Arthur pressed as he began pacing around the cabin.

"I'd find what I needed," Alfred insisted.

"Sure, on an island with no natural resources whose residents--of which there are now virtually none--have to import all of their goods and trade people to barter with. That makes perfect sense," Arthur responded coolly as he pivoted on his heel and glared at Alfred again. Alfred gulped. This...wasn't going well at all.

"Well, I'd find a way," Alfred persisted, though he was mentally kicking himself, "I'd move on to another island, or something--as long as I got away from damned pirates," he spat. Arthur cocked his head inquisitively, taking a few steps toward him. It was all Alfred could do to not run away, but he managed to stand his ground as he stared up into the other man's eyes.

"Damned pirates, hm?" Arthur mused, green eyes flashing dangerously, "Including _this_ pirate, of course," he added bitterly as he gestured to himself. Alfred looked down at the floor, suddenly filled with guilt.

"Alfred, look at me," he commanded. Alfred obeyed, looking up into the man's face. He jumped as Arthur suddenly grabbed his face in both of his hands--gently, though, lovingly. Alfred felt his face turning red with shame.

"What is it that I have to do to convince you?" Arthur murmured as he caressed Alfred's face with his fingers. Alfred felt his eyes fall closed as he leaned into his touch; they sprang open as Arthur abruptly let go of him and shook his head.

"Arthur, I..." Alfred stammered, "I just...I don't know what I should do," he admitted. The other man watched him carefully, listening.

"I like you--I-I _might_ even l-love you, I guess, maybe--but I..." Alfred stumbled, "God, I can't believe I'm even saying this...I don't KNOW you, Arthur," he said as Arthur opened his mouth to retaliate. Alfred cut him off, raising his hand, "I don't really know _who_ you are. For all I know, you could be just as bad as the people in that village! You could be hauling me off to be traded--!"

He immediately wished he hadn't said it as the sentence passed his lips. The look on Arthur's face broke his heart. The man looked at him as if he'd been struck, emerald eyes wide with shock.

"A-Arthur, I didn't mean--"

"You think I'd do that?" Arthur blurted, though his voice was barely above a whisper, "That's who you think I am?"

"No! I mean..." Alfred stammered, shaking his head, "I don't want to, but...I-I don't know,"

Arthur stared at him sadly for a few moments before striding past him.

"Where are you going?" Alfred asked as Arthur threw the cabin door open.

"Out," he answered gruffly, "You stay in here--try another half-assed escape attempt and I'll have to tie you to that goddamn chair again," he added with a snarl.

Alfred watched sadly as the door closed behind him.

* * *

Captain Arthur Kirkland paced along the perimeter of his ship, reaching out and running his hand along the railing as he went. The salty breeze tossed his bangs into his eyes as he shuddered, though not from the cold. The look in Alfred's eyes a moment ago lingered in his mind's eye.

_" For all I know, you could be just as bad as the people in that village! You could be hauling me off to be traded!"_

Arthur winced at the sting those words had left behind. He had been angry, sure, but that was because of the prospect of Alfred getting hurt. He could have drowned...Arthur hurriedly shoved the thought aside. He was relieved that he was unharmed, but the other man didn't seem to see it that way. Alfred had behaved like a caged animal, like Arthur was holding him prisoner or something. Those blue eyes had positively smoldered at him, burning like blue fire behind lenses that only amplified their intensity. Arthur swallowed as he made his way up to the helm. Was he really that monstrous? He admitted that their relationship hadn't started out under what would be considered normal circumstances, but...was Alfred truly that terrified of him? He grasped the ship's wheel, turning it slightly. What had he done to make Alfred feel that afraid?

"Captain?" a soft voice asked.

"Yes?" Arthur responded, cursing how his voice sounded hollow. He glanced to his right as Mat walked over. The man was wiping his glasses on his shirt, making sure not to meet Arthur's gaze.

"Alfred all right?" Mat asked, puffing on one of the glasses to fog it up and wiping it on his sleeve.

"I guess," Arthur shrugged, tightening his grip on the ship's wheel and staring straight ahead.

"What does that mean?" Mat asked worriedly, "He's not injured or anything, right?"

"No, nothing like that," Arthur said. There was a slight pause before Mat spoke again.

"Did you talk to him?" Mat asked.

"Yes," Arthur answered curtly.

"And...?" Mat pried.

Arthur didn't respond, preferring to stare into the black night instead. He turned the ship's wheel slightly, making certain it didn't stray from the intended trajectory.

His first mate sighed, grabbing the wheel and looking up at him accusingly. Arthur just stared at him, surprised.

"What happened, Arthur?" Mat asked, "What did he say?"

Arthur hesitated as he turned away, folding his arms across his chest as he stared up into the night sky. It was studded with stars, though most of them were drowned out by the white light of the half-moon looming in the east. Tufts of delicate black clouds blocked the moon's bottom half.

"Clouds're moving in," he noted, "The weather's going to change--we need to be watchful for storms, especially with that wind,"

"Arthur," Mat said flatly. When the other man didn't respond, he exhaled loudly. A few moments passed before Arthur finally spoke.

"He's afraid of me," he said quietly, barely above a whisper. Mat moved over to stand beside him, feet shuffling along the planks quietly.

"Afraid of you?" Mat repeated, "What for?"

Arthur was silent for a few moments as he brooded over that very question. Was it the way that he spoke to him? Treated him? Or maybe he had...hurt him, somehow? He had tried to be gentle.

"He..." Arthur hesitated, turning away from Mat, "He thinks I intend to sell him,"

"What?" Mat asked quietly, "Where did he get an idea like that from?"

"I don't know," Arthur mumbled with a shrug, "I told him I had rescued him from just that--why he would think that I--"

"Whoa, hold on," Mat interrupted, moving so he was in Arthur's line of vision once again, "You told him the other guys were planning on selling him?"

"Well...yes," Arthur stated as he stole a look at him. Mat looked horrified, violet eyes wide behind his spectacles.

"Why the hell would you tell him that?!" Mat shouted--or, his version of shouting, anyhow. More like raised his voice a bit. Still, it was unusual for him and Arthur felt instantly uncomfortable. When he didn't respond, Mat shook his head and threw his hands up.

"Well of course that would scare him, you fool," he chided, "He doesn't know anything about you--for all he knows, you could be doing the same thing as the other guys,"

Arthur bristled at that statement, narrowing his eyes at Mat angrily.

"He knows a great deal about me," he growled.

"Does he, now?" Mat stated with a frown, "After _one_ day, he knows everything there is to know about you," he added sarcastically.

"Yeah, he does," Arthur insisted as he glared at him. Mat blinked at him a couple of times before his eyes went wide.

"Oh," he blurted, blushing, "Oh, you mean...wow," he stammered, "Really?" he squeaked. Arthur nodded curtly, not really liking where this conversation was heading.

"I'm rich," Mat said under his breath with a crooked smile.

"What?" Arthur asked, cocking an eyebrow at him.

"Nothing," Mat said hurriedly, waving his hands dismissively as the smile disappeared, "But that _is_ rather fast. He just got here, just woke up on a strange ship full of strange people. That in itself must have been quite a shock for him,"

"I suppose so," Arthur admitted with a sigh, "But I tried to make sure he was comfortable on ship. I didn't think he was afraid of me...he didn't _act_ afraid,"

"Well, people don't always show fear when they're afraid," Mat pointed out, "Most try to hide it, to avoid looking weak," he added astutely.

Arthur snorted, shaking his head.

"Well listen to you," he drawled lazily, "The good doctor, playing shrink,"

"I'm just trying to help," Mat said flatly as he crossed his arms over his chest, "Besides, the poor lad was injured when you found him--God only knows how that happened,"

Arthur remained silent, and Mat saw his discomfort.

"Oh, you didn't," he accused, frowning at him and putting his hands on his hips, "Arthur, what happened to him before you brought him on board?"

Arthur paused, turning to look away from Mat once again. His first mate, however, was having none of it and stepped directly in front of him. Arthur rolled his eyes, wanting nothing more than to slink below deck and get away from him. Mat frowned at him over his glasses, clearly expecting an answer.

"I..." Arthur hesitated, throwing his hand haphazardly into the air, "He was trying to put up a fight," he said, fondly recalling the defiance in Alfred's face, the fire in his eyes as he tried to retaliate, that slight drop in his confidence as he bit his lip...

"Okay. And...?" Mat pressed.

"...and then the reinforcements from inland started arriving, so I had to go," Arthur explained matter-of-factly, "And I took him with me,"

"You knocked him out?" Mat blurted incredulously.

"Well, it was the only way to make sure he got here without putting up a struggle," Arthur reasoned, "Otherwise we both would have gotten caught,"

Mat just stared at him, mouth agape.

"What?" Arthur demanded, growing increasingly more uncomfortable as the other man just stared at him in disbelief.

"Well no _wonder_ he's afraid of you," Mat said as he shook his head, "Hell, I would've tried to make a break for it, too. You kidnapped him!"

"Rescued," Arthur corrected, poking Mat in the chest with an index finger.

"Yeah, all right," Mat scoffed, "And I'll bet Alfred saw it precisely that way when he woke up in a strange man's bed,"

Arthur didn't answer, and Mat's glare became even more accusatory. Arthur hadn't thought it was possible until now.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Mat hissed, "What, did you dump him on the floor?" he accused. Arthur raised an eyebrow at him--he had never seen the man so worked up.

"No, I put him in a chair," Arthur answered coolly, "I'm not an ape, Mat," he added angrily.

"Put him in a chair as in set him in said chair without him falling off of it?" Mat stated sarcastically, "Or did you tie him up?" he added darkly.

"Well, I kind of had to--"

"Arthur!" Mat exclaimed as he ran a hand through his hair, "What the hell for?!"

"Oh come on, you saw how he kicked me when I was trying to fix up his hand!" Arthur retorted, "If I hadn't done it I'd be missing my bloody teeth!"

"Yes, but that was while you were pouring antiseptic on his injury," Mat pointed out. Arthur snorted grumpily. _"Antiseptic."_ Bloody doctors.

"Well, it made sense to keep him there so he wouldn't panic when he woke up," Arthur grumbled.

"I'm sure he was panicking more when he realized he had been tied up," Mat reasoned.

"Only for a bit," Arthur insisted, "But then he was fine!"

"You mean you slept with him," Mat deduced. Arthur blushed furiously and turned his head. Mat didn't attempt to follow him this time, but sighed tiredly.

"Was that...wrong?" Arthur asked quietly.

"I...I don't know," Mat stammered, "I think it was too fast, considering the situation. He was probably terrified, definitely disoriented, and, well...you might have gone too quickly,"

"I didn't do anything without his permission," Arthur pointed out, "I asked first,"

"I'm sure you did, but..." Mat hesitated. Arthur turned back toward him then apprehensively. His first mate was staring out at the empty black sea, brow furrowed in concentration.

"Does that mean he doesn't...?" Arthur trailed off quietly. _"...want to be with me?"_ didn't quite make it past his lips, but Mat seemed to understand what he was trying to say. He put his hand on Arthur's shoulder comfortingly.

"I don't really know...I think he might," Mat said quietly, "But there's a lot of room for doubt at this point. You have to remember, it's only been a _day_ ,"

Arthur nodded, cursing himself for being too rash. Damn it, if he had only waited. If he hadn't found that infernal tuft of hair of his...but how the hell was he supposed to know _that_ would happen when he touched it?

"What should I do?" Arthur heard himself ask.

"Give him some space for a while," Mat suggested, "I'll give him stuff to preoccupy himself with on ship, give him time to think things over without you being right there all of the time. I...think he should still stay in your cabin, though," he reasoned, "The gents aren't all bad, but you never know,"

Arthur nodded again, swallowing.

"I don't want to lose him, Mat," he added softly, barely above a whisper.

"I know you don't," Mat soothed, "Just give him some time and see what he decides. Ultimately, it's up to him. He'll come to you when he's ready,"

"I know," Arthur said quietly.

"Try not to fret over it," Mat reassured him with a soft smile, "It'll work out,"

Arthur nodded, though that did little to ease his mind. Mat excused himself shortly after that, but Arthur remained on deck, watching the night sky as he sank into his thoughts. He trusted Mat's judgment--he had been his comrade for years and his logic hadn't failed Arthur yet. However, he had willingly strayed into very unfamiliar territory, and had royally screwed it up. He sighed, rubbing his eyes. Who was he kidding, anyhow? Nobody would be interested in someone like him as a partner, save for a day or so. An object of desire for a fling, not a lover to count on for the long haul.

Still, Mat hadn't acted like all hope was lost, he reasoned as he watched the sun peek out over the horizon. Perhaps he still had a chance to set things right.


	4. Chapter 4

_Pirate music! Irish Rovers-Drunken Sailor **  
**_

* * *

Alfred lurched awake and sat bolt upright, realizing with a jolt that he was lying in Arthur's bed. He was certain he had nodded off in the chair earlier as he waited for the other man to return. He looked around--Arthur was slumped in the chair Alfred had previously occupied, arms across his chest and feet propped up on the table, still fully dressed. Alfred blushed; he must have moved him to the bed in his sleep.

He licked his lips and cautiously approached. He was fairly certain Arthur was asleep, but it was difficult to tell with his hat pulled down over his eyes. Alfred crouched down to steal a look beneath the brim. Sure enough, Arthur's eyes were shut. Alfred sighed, considering whether or not to wake him. Arthur hadn't returned for at least three hours the night before, based on the last time Alfred had looked at the pocket watch Arthur had left on the table. He wagered that it wasn't much past dawn from the gray light streaming through the window--best to let him sleep. He smiled sadly as Arthur mumbled something in his sleep and his leg twitched. He had hurt him so badly with what he had said...Alfred turned away in shame and quietly went outside.

He was greeted by the first mate walking toward him, who waved cheerily.

"Good-morning!" Mat said, "I was just on my way to find you,"

"You were?" Alfred blurted, "You're not mad?" he said before he could stop himself. Mat shook his head and gestured for him to follow him up onto the main deck.

"No, I'm just glad you're all right," he elaborated, "So's the Captain," he added--Alfred looked down at his feet in shame.

"You...talked to him?" Alfred pried as Mat led him down into the lower levels of the ship.

"Yeah, last night," Mat answered dismissively as he grabbed a lantern and led Alfred to a small room filled with cleaning supplies, "All right, here we go: the upper decks could really use a scrubbing. Care to help me out? The other gents are busy with other tasks at the moment, and we could use a hand,"

"Sure," Alfred answered as Mat handed him a mop and a bucket, "Which decks?"

"I'll show you," Mat answered as he led him back up onto the deck, "You can start up here," he said as he led Alfred onto an empty platform, save for two men who appeared to be repairing nets. They looked up as Mat and Alfred approached, nodding at them.

"Morning, gents," Mat greeted, "Alfred here is going to be swabbing the deck for us," he explained, "Alfred: meet Jon and Caleb," he introduced, pointing to each in-turn.

"Mornin,'" the two men greeted as they quickly returned to their task.

"Hello," Alfred said awkwardly.

"All right, get to it!" Mat said, clapping a hand on Alfred's shoulder and heading back down to the helm. Alfred hurriedly set about swabbing the deck, starting at the far end away from Jon and Caleb. He wobbled; the waves were much higher than he recalled the day before, lurching the ship rhythmically from side to side. He stole a look out over the horizon; the sky was steadily filling with gray clouds as the wind tossed them about.

"Oi, Alfred, you're losin' yer bucket," one of the men pointed out.

"Huh?" Alfred blurted as he looked down. The bucket was sliding across the deck in-time with the waves, scooting toward the two men quietly.

"Oh!" Alfred exclaimed as he gave chase, "Sorry about that!"

Jon and Caleb chuckled at him, shaking their heads.

"Not a seaman, are ya?" Jon asked with a grin.

"N-not really," Alfred answered as he returned to his task, "I've only been on a boat a couple of times, actually,"

"Hmph, well yer in fer a surprise, then," Caleb answered with a thick Irish accent, "Yer gonna walk funny for a while until you get yer sea legs,"

"Yeah, probably," Alfred laughed nervously, grabbing the bucket with his foot before it slid away from him again, "How long have you gents been on ship?"

"On this ship?" Jon asked, looking up thoughtfully, "Few years now--same as Caleb,"

"And...you like it here?" Alfred asked hesitantly.

"It's not bad," Caleb answered with a shrug, "Plenty of rum," he added slyly, causing Jon to burst out laughing.

"There's never enough rum for you, ya damned drunkard," he teased.

" _And_ we've managed to land some mighty fine treasure," Jon added pointedly, "Cap'n Kirkland's got a good sniffer fer gold, he does,"

Alfred swallowed, turning his attention back onto swabbing the deck.

"Yeah, he's all right," Caleb agreed, "Good man, fer the most part,"

"Good to know," Alfred mumbled as he scooted the bucket forward a few steps. Awkward silence ensued until Caleb spoke again.

"Whaddoya do fer a livin,' Alfred?" he asked kindly.

"He swabs decks--what's it look like?" Jon teased.

"I'm a carpenter," Alfred answered with a laugh, "A novice, but...still," he pointed out.

"Ah, you oughtta tell Mat that," Jon pointed out, "He might have somethin' else fer ya to do later,"

"I'll do that, thanks," Alfred said as he continued his task. The Irishmen were a pleasant bunch--Alfred wagered that was why Mat chose that deck for him to work on. They chatted about this and that, about places they've been and where Arthur had bravely led them. Alfred almost forgot that he was supposed to be working as he leaned on his mop and listened intently. Before he knew it, it was noon and Mat was blowing a whistle from the lower decks.

"Time to eat," Jon explained as he and Caleb got up, "Let's get some grub,"

Alfred followed the two of them down the steps and into the galley. He awkwardly sat between Jon and Mat, who wanted a status update on the deck.

"Nearly done," Alfred answered, turning red at the prospect of not being fast enough.

"Eh, he's doin' fine," Caleb reassured him as he raised his tankard and took a swig, "Spent half the time chasin' down the goddamn bucket," he added with a laugh. Jon snorted into his rum and chuckled.

"Sounds like you've got enough to do for a little bit, then," Mat reasoned as he took a drink of his own rum and looked over at Alfred, "Aren't you hungry?" he asked, but Alfred wasn't listening. A tall man in a red coat had sauntered in, wearing a decorated tri-cornered hat.

"Hey, Cap'n!" half of the room greeted, raising their mugs in salute.

"Afternoon, gents," Arthur greeted with a graceful nod as he grabbed a tankard and took a swig. He paused, looking the group over. His gaze rested on Alfred briefly before flicking his green eyes away quickly; Alfred's heart sank.

"Alright, listen up: storm's coming up later this afternoon," Arthur said, though Alfred noted he didn't need to raise his voice much. The entire crew was paying rapt attention to his every word, "I want this ship battened down so we don't tear any sails. Got it?"

"Yes, Cap'n!" the room responded.

"Oi, Cap'n!" a burly man asked from across the room. Arthur turned toward him, one eyebrow raised. The man hoisted up another man who had fallen under the table by the armpits. His head lolled lazily to the side as the other men laughed, "What do ya reckon we do with ol' George here? He's drunker n' a skunk! Prolly been drinkin' since yesterday night!"

Arthur slowly made his way over to the other side of the room, his expression stern as some of the men began to murmur quietly. Alfred gulped; what was he going to do to him? The captain looked the drunken man over for a moment, shaking his head and shrugging dramatically.

"Well, I don't know, gents...what DO we do with a drunken sailor?" he teased as a grin crept over his face and he grabbed the man's rum. Alfred felt his jaw fall open as Arthur dumped the rum over the man's head and the room erupted into uproarious laughter. George spluttered, trying to stand and landing in a heap on the floor instead.

"He's all yours," Arthur said cryptically as he walked out of the galley, "Just...don't kill him," he said pointedly as he walked out the door.

"What will we do with drunken sailor? What will we do with a drunken sailor? What will we do with a drunken sailor, early in the morning?" Jon and Caleb chimed as the rest of the room joined in.

"Way, hey, and up she rises, way, hey, and up she rises, way, hey, and up she rises, early in the morning!" the rest of the room sang enthusiastically as they all began filing out of the galley. The burly man from earlier was dragging George out of the galley and out onto the deck.

"What's going on?" Alfred blurted as Jon gestured for him to follow the crew out. Mat chuckled as he followed Jon and the others out of the galley.

"Just a bit of fun," he answered with a mischievous smirk, "Come on,"

The singing continued as Alfred joined the others on the deck. The crew had assembled into a circle on the deck and were tossing the drunken man around between them as he staggered about.

"Put 'im in the bilge and make 'im drink it, put 'im in the bilge and make 'im drink it , put 'im in the bilge and make him drink it early in the morning!" the crew belted out between guffaws as George stumbled dizzily between them. Many of them had begun clapping their hands and slapping a rhythm on their knees.

"Way, hey, and up she rises, way, hey, and up she rises, way, hey ,and up she rises, early in the morning!" they all chimed in, Mat included. Alfred watched the scene, fascinated.

"Put 'im in a longboat til' he's sober, put 'im in a longboat til' he's sober, put 'im in a longboat til' he's sober, early in the morning!" the crew sang merrily as George fell flat on his face onto the deck. Alfred craned his neck to see what was happening--two of the men had grabbed him and pushed him back onto his feet.

" ...way, hey, and up she rises, way, hey, and up she rises, early in the morning!" the crew continued, "That's what we do with a drunken sailor, that's what we do with a drunken sailor, that's what we do with a drunken sailor, early in the morning!"

Now unable to stand, George was literally being carried away by four of the crewmen toward one of the longboats as the rest of the crew followed. They dumped him into the longboat and shook it so it swung over the edge of the ship, rocking back and forth. George flailed around within, only his arms and legs visible as he struggled.

"Way, hey, and up she rises, way, hey, and up she rises, way, hey, and up she rises, early in the morning!" the crew sang as George leaned over the edge of the longboat and promptly vomited all over the deck. The other men burst into laughter, slapping their thighs. Alfred found himself laughing as well, stealing a look up at the helm. Arthur surveyed the scene with a bemused smile on his face, his shoulders shaking a little as he laughed quietly. His eyes met Alfred's briefly, and Alfred's breath caught in his chest. Arthur's smile disappeared as he tore his gaze from him and turned to head back toward his cabin. Alfred bit his lip, wanting nothing more than to rush over there and apologize.

He jumped as a mop was thrust into his face. He recognized the man as Gil from yesterday, who grinned evilly at him.

"Get to it, newbie!" he ordered as he burst out laughing. Alfred begrudgingly took the mop, glaring at the man as he merrily skipped back to his assigned task.

"You on it?" Mat asked him, raising an eyebrow at him that clearly left no room for arguing.

"Yeah, I've got it," Alfred responded, managing a weak grin. Mat nodded at him and headed toward one of the upper decks. Alfred sighed, walking over toward the longboat and setting about the task of cleaning up. George moaned forlornly above him, clearly uncomfortable.

"Please don't puke on me," Alfred muttered under his breath as he began wiping the floor.

Some first day this was turning out to be.

* * *

Alfred watched the men scurry back and forth as the storm kicked up, pitching the ship dangerously from side to side. They had made preparations as Arthur had suggested, but Mat had ordered a few more precautions be taken before the lightning started. The sails had been taken down and secured, and the crew was now concerned with distributing weight evenly around the ship to keep it from capsizing as it rolled over the large waves. Arthur had ordered for long lines with weights to be thrown off the stern as well...something about "running off," whatever the hell that meant.

Alfred had been assigned the task of staying out of the way, which he was only too happy to do. He had never felt so sick in his entire life as he slumped over the railing miserably, clinging to it for dear life and vomiting over the side. He frowned as another gust of wind plastered his hair to his face and doused him in rainwater. He spat a few strands out of his mouth and swore under his breath.

"All right, time to get inside," a voice said from his left. Alfred jumped; Mat was tugging on his soaked shirtsleeve and gesturing toward the other side of the ship.

"But I'm still puking--" Alfred pointed out as he cut himself off with a retch. Mat frowned, looking up at the sky apprehensively.

"The storm's only going to get worse," Mat worriedly pointed out, "I don't want you getting swept overboard,"

"I'm fine here," Alfred insisted as another wave of nausea gripped him and he lost his stomach again over the side of the ship. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked back at Mat, who was looking at him worriedly.

"I think you ought to get inside," he said firmly as he gestured toward the other end of the ship, "I'll grab you something to help keep your stomach in,"

Alfred hesitated; he clearly meant Arthur's cabin, if he was pointing toward the back of the ship.

"Won't the Captain mind, though?" he asked nervously. Mat shook his head.

"Nah, that's where he said you ought to go," he answered. Alfred gulped. Mat seemed to sense his unease, frowning at him.

"He's not retiring til' late, anyhow--he's gotta get us through this storm first," Mat elaborated as he pointed up at the helm, "Looks like this one's gonna be a doozy," he added.

Alfred looked up; sure enough, Arthur stood in front of the ship's wheel. He was wearing a black overcoat (over his red one, no doubt) and his signature tri-cornered hat, staring out into the gray twilight with his head held high. One slim, gloved hand gripped the wheel, the other a small object Alfred assumed was a compass. The lantern above him swung in time with the rocking of the ship, illuminating his face and wet clothes with soft orange light.

"Hey," Mat teased as he put his hand in front of Alfred's face. Alfred snapped out of his trance, blinking up at Mat through the rain. The first mate was smirking at him and shaking his head, "You get in the cabin--I'll bring you your meds,"

"Meds?" Alfred repeated, but Mat was already bounding below deck. Alfred stole another look up at the helm; Arthur majestically leaned into the wind as it whipped at his clothes, cranking the wheel to the right and stealing a look at his compass. Alfred noted vaguely how straight the man stood, more like a soldier or nobleman. He certainly didn't hold himself like a common criminal, with hunched shoulders that gave the impression that he had something to hide. No, Arthur stood proudly with his head aloft, staring into the oncoming storm with defiant, blazing green eyes--

"What part of 'get in the cabin' did you fail to understand?" Mat scolded from directly next to him. Alfred just about leapt out of his skin as Mat put his hand on Alfred's back and scooted him across the deck like a child.

"Hey!" Alfred shouted indignantly as he broke free from the other man's grasp and whirled around to face him, "I think I can take it from here, thanks," he said flatly. Mat raised an eyebrow at him and handed him a teacup. What Alfred could only describe as a twisted brown root resided within, lurking amid a dark brown liquid.

"That's ginger root--drink it and it should calm the nausea," Mat explained as he wiped the stray curl of hair out of his eyes as the wind shook the ship, "Now get inside and stay there," he ordered, "I'll come by to check on you once the storm dies down,"

"Thanks!" Alfred squeaked as the wind howled loudly and the rain picked up, dousing the deck in a nearly impenetrable sheet of water, "You get inside, too!" he shouted over the wind. Mat said something before turning and heading back toward the lower decks, but Alfred couldn't hear him. He clutched onto the wall of the cabin and followed it until his hand found the doorknob. He threw the cabin door open and stumbled inside, cursing. He threw himself against the door to slam it shut and stole a look down at his "meds."

"Ugh," he blanched as he took a sniff. It was sickly sweet, but strong, like Earl Grey or something. Certainly nothing like the tea Arthur had given him earlier. Still, it was better than throwing up all over Arthur's cabin. He pinched his nose and took a gulp. The tincture was lukewarm as it slid down his throat. He took a breath and downed the rest of the liquid, fighting off a wave of nausea as the ginger root tapped against his teeth.

"Oh, bloody disgusting," he mumbled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He frowned, looking down at his clothes forlornly. He was positively soaking wet. He could only imagine how cold and wet Arthur was standing out on that deck, with naught but an overcoat and hat to protect him.

He pushed the thought aside as he stripped off his clothes and laid them out to dry. He shook out his hair, grabbing a wash towel near the empty basin by the bookshelf and drying himself with it. He rubbed his arms as he contemplated his next step. He raised an eyebrow as the table at the far end of the room broke loose and scooted toward him. A trunk beneath the table bumped against one of the table legs as the ship lurched unsteadily. Alfred staggered over to the trunk and crouched in front of it, curious. He pried it open--the trunk was filled with various trinkets and, more importantly, clothing. He hesitated--he didn't want the man thinking he was stealing from him, but the idea of sitting around in the buff until his clothes dried didn't appeal to him, especially if Mat made good on his word to check on him. He reluctantly rummaged through Arthur's trunk and found a pair of trousers and an old shirt. He shivered as he pulled the dry clothing on, stumbling as the ship pitched suddenly, dropping downward and seeming to pop back up again.

"Holy shit!" he exclaimed as he lost his balance. He clumsily got back onto his feet and clutched onto the table, which had resumed migrating across the room. Alfred pushed it back a few paces, only to be thwarted by the two chairs sliding past him and bumping into the adjacent wall. Seemed that Arthur's bed was the only article of furniture that had been nailed down.

"Damn it," he hissed, throwing his hands into the air in defeat as the ship lurched violently once again, forcing him onto the floor. He crawled along the planks and grabbed onto the blankets. He jumped as a series of thudding sounds erupted from his left. He turned around--Arthur's books were tumbling off of his bookshelf and crashing to the floor below.

"No!" Alfred cried, stumbling toward the shelves (which, ironically, had been nailed to the wall behind them) and began hastily gathering them up into his arms. He jumped as a clap of thunder rattled the windows behind him, followed by an intense flash of white light. He frowned worriedly. Arthur was standing out in this, and he shouldn't be. It wasn't safe. _He_ wasn't safe.

Alfred got to his feet as another mighty clap of thunder roared above him. He staggered over to his wet clothes and changed back into them, absently wondering if Arthur would be cross with him if he got his spare clothes soaked. He grabbed the handle of the cabin door and yanked it open. He stumbled backward a few paces as he was hit in the face with a wall of water. The wind savagely blew at his face as he struggled against it; he swore loudly and forced his way out into the storm, grabbing the door and slamming it shut behind him.

The wind howled violently in the darkness. Another burst of thunder erupted from overhead and lightning illuminated the deck. Alfred's jaw fell open; the sea was...gone. There was no water over the side at all--and then, just as abruptly as it had disappeared, it reemerged, a giant black swell that loomed angrily over the railing as the light went out. Alfred clawed at the wall behind him as he was shoved into it by the oncoming wave. He cried out in terror as he was roughly slammed into the railing as the water receded. He clung to it for dear life, glasses askew and his wet hair hanging into his eyes. He pushed himself off of the rail and began half-crawling up toward the helm. Flashes of lightning illuminated his way as he crept close to the wall of the cabin, clutching onto the walls for support. He squinted through the wall of water and could just barely make out a soft orange glow bouncing above him. The lantern--Arthur.

Alfred painstakingly made his way up onto the next deck, not taking his eyes from that orange light above for an instant. A flash of lightning illuminated a tall, thin silhouette at the helm, holding onto the ship's wheel with both arms as he tried to force it to stay in place.

"Arthur!" Alfred cried as his voice was lost to the howling of the wind. He yelped as the deck abruptly moved out from underneath him. He slammed onto the planks and lay there for an instant, the wind knocked out of him. He clambered to his feet, reaching out and finding a waterlogged coil of rope. He grabbed it on instinct, taking it with him as he stumbled toward Arthur's side. He was within reaching distance of the man and he still couldn't properly see him through the rain. Arthur's proud shoulders were working against the force of the sea, wrenching the ship's wheel in a vain attempt to keep the ship on course. Alfred could barely make out the sound of him bellowing curses into the howling wind.

"ARTHUR!" Alfred shouted as he slammed his palm into the other man's back. Arthur jumped and spun around, green eyes wild amid soggy blonde bangs.

"ALFRED?" he shouted as a clap of thunder nearly drowned him out. He turned back toward the wheel as it began turning wildly of its own accord, emitting a loud clacking sound. Arthur grabbed the wheel firmly in both hands, leaning into it to try and keep it on course. Alfred nudged him aside and threw his weight into the wheel. Arthur looked at him like had grown another head.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" he bellowed, "GET BACK INSIDE!"

"NO!" Alfred shouted back defiantly, "YOU'RE GONNA GET YOURSELF KILLED OUT HERE!" he shouted as a sizzling crack of thunder and angry flash of lightning cut him off.

"WHAT?!" Arthur shouted as he wrenched the wheel to the right once again; Alfred threw his weight into the wheel in the same direction to assist him.

"I SAID YOU'RE GONNA GET YOURSELF KILLED!" Alfred repeated angrily, "IT'S NOT SAFE OUT HERE!"

"THEN GET BACK INSIDE!" Arthur snapped, "BLOODY FUCKIN' HELL!" he swore as the wind changed direction and slammed rainwater underneath his hat, directly into his face. Alfred turned his head to catch his breath, but didn't let go of that damned wheel.

"ALFRED, FOR FUCK'S SAKE!" Arthur shouted.

"I'M NOT LEAVING UNTIL YOU DO!" Alfred insisted defiantly as another clap of thunder roared and the ship pitched forward unsteadily. Alfred lost his grip on the wheel and it snapped back at him; he quickly threw his weight onto it again to keep it on the course Arthur intended.

"FINE, BE STUPID!" Arthur declared, "JUST DON'T LET GO OF THAT BLOODY WHEEL!"

"RIGHT!" Alfred chimed as he dug his heels into the wet deck beneath him. A few seconds of tense silence passed between them as the wind howled angrily. Alfred stole a look at the night sky--it was...green? He looked up at Arthur's face. He was grimacing, gritting his teeth and scowling as his arms shook with the force of trying to keep the ship in line. Alfred frowned worriedly; the other man was getting tired.

"ARTHUR, THIS ISN'T WORKING!" he shouted.

"I'M DOING THE BEST THAT I CAN, HERE!" Arthur snapped irritably as another flash of lightning sizzled above them, "GO BACK INSIDE WHERE IT'S SAFE!"

"I'M NOT LEAVING WITHOUT YOU!" Alfred practically shrieked in anger, doubling down on the wheel and gritting his teeth.

"WHY?" Arthur demanded, "DAMN IT, YOU'RE THE ONE WHO'S GONNA GET KILLED OUT HERE!"

"WHY?" Alfred repeated furiously as he turned his head to look up at the other man, "WHY? BECAUSE I LOVE YOU, YOU FUCKING IDIOT!" he cried. Arthur might have stared at him in disbelief, though with the rainwater it was hard to tell.

"What?" he squeaked, barely audible above the wind.

"YOU HEARD ME!" Alfred bellowed, "NOW SHUT UP AND COME UP WITH A BETTER GODDAMN PLAN BEFORE WE BOTH DROWN!" he added, positively filled to the brim with adrenaline. He still hadn't quite registered what he had said, but damn it, he was glad that he had. It had gotten Arthur's attention, at any rate.

Arthur seemed to perk up a little, shifting and putting his full weight onto the ship's wheel.

"THERE'RE SHOALS OFF THE PORT SIDE!" he shouted, "AS LONG AS WE CLEAR THOSE, WE CAN LET THE STORM TAKE US OUT INTO OPEN WATER!"

"HOW DO YOU KNOW WHERE THEY ARE?" Alfred cried.

"NEARLY PAST 'EM!" Arthur answered as thunder roared overhead, "JUST ANOTHER THREE HUNDRED YARDS OR SO AND WE SHOULD BE IN THE CLEAR!"

"OKAY!" Alfred answered, relieved that this nightmare was almost over with, "HOW LONG UNTIL WE'RE PAST THEM?"

Alfred opened his mouth to answer as lightning burst into the night sky and hit the mast in front of them with a mighty crack. The blackened mast abruptly splintered into pieces which free fell, got caught in the howling wind and--

"GET DOWN!" Alfred cried, wrenching the other man's shoulders and throwing him to the deck. The charred top half of the mast shot past them and over the top of the ship. Alfred found himself shaking--the thing would have taken their heads clean off if they hadn't moved. The ship's wheel clanked angrily as Alfred worriedly looked Arthur over. He wasn't moving.

Alfred felt himself seized by panic as he smacked the other man's face. He shouted his name and cursed at him for several seconds before having the presence of mind to check him for a pulse. He placed his fingers over the other man's wrist and breathed a sigh of relief as a dull thudding met his fingertips. He looked him over as another flash of lightning illuminated Arthur's face. A trickle of red was seeping out onto the deck from beneath his hat, just below the temple. Alfred swallowed; either debris had hit him or he had fallen on something on the deck.

"Shit," he hissed as he put his hand under Arthur's head, feeling the hard metal cleat on the planks below. "Oh, shit," he blurted as he realized why Arthur was unconscious. Damn it.

"CAPTAIN?!" someone shouted. Alfred stood up as several figures came into view through the rain.

"HEY! HE'S HURT!" Alfred cried over the howling of the wind. Two men shuffled over to him and looked him over confusedly. Alfred couldn't tell who was who with the rain.

"EY! THE CAP'N'S HURT!" one of them shouted as his gaze found Arthur. "GET MAT OVER HERE!"

"THE SHOALS!" Alfred shouted as he made an attempt to grab the wildly spinning ship's wheel, "WE HAVE TO AVOID THE SHOALS!"

"RIGHT, LEMME TRY!" one of the men shouted at him--he was pretty sure this one was Caleb, based on the accent, but he wasn't sure. The man struggled with the wheel as another man also grabbed hold of it.

"WHICH WAY?" one of them cried.

"HARD STARBOARD!" Alfred shouted, "FOR ABOUT THREE HUNDRED YARDS, THEN WE'RE CLEAR!" The men pushed the wheel to the right, struggling to hold it there. Alfred turned his attention back onto Arthur, who now had Mat leaning over him. Alfred fell to his knees beside him worriedly.

"IS HE OKAY?" Alfred shouted. Mat said something, but it was lost to the wind.

"WHAT?!" Alfred demanded as he leaned down toward the man's face.

"I SAID I THINK SO!" Mat shouted, though he was still difficult to hear, "WHAT HAPPENED?"

"THE MAST WAS GONNA HIT US, SO WE HIT THE DECK!" Alfred yelled as thunder roared overhead.

"WHAT?" Mat asked, shaking his head, "NEVER MIND! WE NEED TO GET HIM INSIDE!" he ordered, looking to Alfred, "GIVE ME A HAND WITH HIM!"

"RIGHT!" Alfred said with a nod as he clumsily hoisted Arthur up by the armpits. Mat helped him clumsily gather the other man onto his back.

"WHAT ABOUT THE SHIP?" Alfred cried.

"WE'RE NEARLY PAST THE SHOALS!" another man shouted, "WE'LL HANDLE IT FROM HERE!"

"GET INSIDE AS SOON AS WE'RE IN OPEN WATER!" Mat ordered in a surprisingly loud voice. Thankfully, the others understood and nodded enthusiastically at him. Mat hissed and threw a hand over his face as he attempted to lead Alfred off of the deck. Alfred yelped as he nearly lost his grip on Arthur.

"MAT!" he shouted. The other man turned around, noted how he was struggling, and grabbed the rope Alfred had dropped onto the deck earlier. He helped Alfred readjust Arthur onto his back and wrapped the rope around the two of them, securing him to Alfred's back and shoulders.

"THANKS!" he cried. Mat said something back, but it was lost to the wind again. Alfred followed the other man toward Arthur's cabin as he led them by the remainder of the rope, staggering into the cabin walls as the ship rocked dangerously from side to side. By the time Mat threw the cabin door open, the two of them were exhausted.

"Holy SHIT," Alfred declared as Mat hurriedly began untying the ropes holding Arthur to him.

"What happened to him?" Mat asked as Alfred slid Arthur off of his back and onto the mattress.

"The mast got struck by lightning," Alfred answered as he rushed over and pushed the cabin door closed, "I grabbed him and we hit the deck so he wouldn't get hit by it, and I guess he hit his head on the way down," he added glumly.

"Hmm," Mat said absently as he placed Arthur's hat on the mattress next to him, "Oh yeah, he's got a goose egg, all right," he observed as he gently touched Arthur's head.

"How did that thing stay on his head?" Alfred blurted before he could stop himself.

"What, the hat?" Mat laughed, "He'd never go anywhere without that damned thing, hell included,"

Alfred paused, biting his lip nervously.

"Mat, it's my fault he got hurt," he said quietly, "Is he...?"

"Oh, he'll be fine," Mat reassured him as he smoothed back Arthur's waterlogged hair to assess the injury, "He's had much worse than a bump on the head, Alfred, don't worry. And it's not your fault," he added, seemingly as an afterthought.

Alfred was relieved at that, but it did little for his guilt. Mat ran his fingers through his wet hair and sighed, his shoulders rising and falling tiredly.

"Well, let's get him undressed," he said, gesturing for Alfred to help, "Grab his arms, will ya?"

Alfred blushed a little as he helped free the captain of his soaking wet clothing and handed Mat a wash towel to dry him off.

"What, embarrassed?" Mat teased, noting Alfred's discomfort.

"Well aren't you?" Alfred retorted.

"Nah," Mat said as he gently cleaned the injury, "I'm a doctor. Once you've seen one naked patient, you've seen 'em all,"

"You're a doctor?" Alfred asked, intrigued.

"Yes, and you're going to catch cold if you stay in those wet clothes," Mat said pointedly, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Huh?" Alfred blurted, "No, I'm okay,"

"That wasn't a question," Mat added sharply, "Now strip,"

Alfred paused as Mat continued tending to Arthur's head.

"I'm not going to look at you, if that's what you're worried about," Mat said, "But I'll be damned if you come to me with a stuffy nose tomorrow and want me to make you some medicine," he added flatly. Alfred scooted over to where he had abandoned Arthur's spare clothes earlier. He dried himself off and hurriedly changed into the fresh clothing, cleaning off his glasses with the hem of the shirt. The shirt and trousers smelled like Arthur, Alfred noted vaguely with a small smile.

"There: all changed," Alfred announced, "How's he doing?" he asked as he walked over to Arthur's bedside. Mat had covered him with his blankets and bandaged up his head with a strip of cloth. The man now appeared to be simply asleep.

"He'll be all right with some rest," Mat said as he got up from the chair he had pulled next to the bed, "Keep an eye on him, will you?"

"Sure," Alfred said with a nod, "What about you?"

"I've gotta get back to the other gents," Mat answered with a bitter smile, "Between the wind pounding on everything, taking on water, and the fuckin' beam landing on Gil's head, it was all we could do just to get out to you and the Captain,"

"A beam fell on someone's head?" Alfred blurted, "Is he okay?"

"Yeah, he'll be fine," Mat sighed, "Just a lot going on at once," he mumbled tiredly, "But...you did really well, Alfred," he praised with a smile. Alfred felt himself blushing a little.

"I just..." he trailed off, embarrassed.

"I mean it. You saved Arthur's life up there," Mat continued, "If you hadn't been there, he might not have dodged that mast,"

Alfred swallowed as that realization sunk in. His legs felt a little wobbly.

"At any rate: thanks," Mat said as he headed for the cabin door, "I'm sure Arthur will be very happy to see you when he wakes up," he added kindly.

"W-wait, you're going back out there now?" Alfred stammered.

"I'll be fine--it's starting to calm down now. Can't you feel it?" Mat said. Alfred paused. Come to think of it, things weren't sliding all over the cabin like they were earlier, were they?

"Anyway, I'll stop back in the morning," Mat decided, "You need anything, come get me,"

"I will," Alfred promised, "And, Mat?"

"Yeah?" the first mate asked as he turned the doorknob to head out.

"Thanks," Alfred muttered.

"Good-night, Alfred," Mat said with a genuine smile, opening the door and darting out into the rain. Alfred sighed, wiping off the damp seat Mat had been sitting in. He plunked down into the chair tiredly, watching Arthur's sleeping face in the light of the lantern on the ceiling. He smiled, lovingly running his hand across Arthur's cheek.

"I almost lost you, you stupid idiot," he whispered, "Don't you ever do that to me again,"

* * *

He smiled into the mirror, bright harlequin-colored eyes flashing victoriously.

Who would have guessed that he could create something this violent, this destructive? The sea roiled angrily, reflected in the glass as lightning flashed. He squinted into the mirror, just barely making out the figure of a ship. His smile grew, creeping over his face quietly.

With any luck, he'd sink the damned thing.

With even more luck, he'd kill that British bastard.

* * *

_So many caps in this chapter. ALL OF THE CAPS. Sorry for the excessive bellowing here._

_The internet tells me that "running off" is a way of getting a ship through a storm, using the storm to propel the ship and keep it from capsizing. This would be done with no sails so they wouldn't tear, but there was a risk of the ship going too fast and hitting a large wave. If this happened, the ship could literally flip over from the bow to the stern. To slow the ship down, weights were thrown off the back that dragged the vessel through the waves, preventing the speed from becoming too great. I love nautical terminology. I really do._

_And we got to meet some of the crew! Haha poor, drunken George. Nothing like some good old fashioned pirate hazing. It's like an old-school fraternity. "Way, hey, and up she rises..." look up that tune--it'll be stuck in your head for weeks. I'm not sure who to credit, since it's an old sea shanty, but that's where the lyrics are from._


	5. Chapter 5

"Mmph..." Arthur mumbled in his sleep. Alfred eagerly watched over him, anticipating him waking up. He had fought hard to stay awake all night as he kept an eye on Arthur, wanting to make sure he was the first thing those beautiful green eyes saw when they opened.

"Arthur?" he called gently.

"Hmm?" Arthur answered groggily. Alfred smiled; he was like a little kid.

"It's time to wake up," Alfred coached, "Come on,"

Arthur mumbled something incoherent and appeared to sink back into slumber again. Alfred frowned; it was morning already. Enough was enough.

"Arthur," he said flatly, raising an eyebrow and trying not to get mad.

"Huh...?" Arthur responded dreamily as his eyelids fluttered open. Alfred smiled as Arthur blinked up at him a few times, "Alfred?"

"Yeah," Alfred answered, pleased that he recognized him right away, "Good-morning,"

"...morning," Arthur mumbled, then sat straight up as if horrified, "What hap--?!" he demanded as he suddenly turned very pale, swooned, and landed flat on his back, unconscious.

"Arthur?" Alfred called worriedly as he leapt out of his seat. He briefly considered running out to get Mat, but Arthur groaned and began to stir.

"Arthur? You okay?" Alfred asked as he sank back into his chair and put a hand on the other man's forehead.

"Ugh...what happened?" Arthur slurred as he came to, blinking up at Alfred questioningly.

"I think you sat up too fast," Alfred deduced as he retracted his hand, "And you're not feverish or anything, so that's good," he added.

"Oh," Arthur sighed, wincing, "Ow," he hissed, "Oh, bollocks...what the _hell._..?" he grimaced, reaching up and gingerly touching the bandage across his head.

"You hit your head," Alfred answered for him. Arthur sighed loudly in response.

"Bollocks," he declared as he threw a hand over his eyes, "What happened last night?"

"You remember the storm?" Alfred asked gingerly.

"Heh. How can I forget it?" Arthur grimaced, removing his hand from his eyes and peeking up at him, "Damn thing nearly capsized my ship,"

He paused as if in thought for a moment, then suddenly looked very concerned.

"Are you all right?" he asked worriedly.

"I'm fine," Alfred reassured with a smile, reaching out and putting his hand over Arthur's, "Everybody is, I think,"

"Good," Arthur sighed with relief, sinking tiredly into his mattress, "Ugh, the mast..." he groaned forlornly, looking up at Alfred. "Is that what hit me?"'

Alfred hesitated, licking his lips nervously as Arthur waited for a response.

"Erm, actually...that was my fault. Sorry," he said glumly. Arthur blinked at him blearily, processing.

" _You_ hit me?" he slurred.

"What? No!" Alfred practically screamed--Arthur winced at the sudden noise and slammed his eyes shut.

"Sorry," Alfred whispered, rubbing Arthur's hand gently, "When the mast broke, part of it came right at you, so I pulled you down onto the deck," he explained, "You hit your head on one of the cleats, I think...sorry about that,"

"Oh," Arthur said, taking Alfred's hand in his and gently squeezing, "That makes sense...thanks," he added with a smile. Alfred frowned worriedly.

"What's the frown for?" Arthur teased, "Sounds like you saved my ass,"

"Yeah, by knocking you out cold," Alfred said with a half-hearted grin.

"Well, I'm glad you did," Arthur said quietly, "And even though I'd rather you had stayed inside where you wouldn't get washed overboard..." he trailed off with a sigh, "I'm glad you came out to help me. Really. Thanks,"

"S-sure," Alfred stammered as he blushed. Arthur squeezed his hand again, hazy green eyes looking at him kindly. Alfred smiled at him and was struck with the urge to lean down and plant a kiss on the man's forehead. Before he could follow through, however, someone knocked on the door behind him. Alfred abruptly turned around as the door swung open.

"House call," Mat announced as he walked in, "Ah, you're up," he said cheerily as he pulled a chair over to the other side of Arthur's bed, "Morning, Alfred,"

"Morning," Alfred answered.

"Hey, Mat," Arthur mumbled.

"Hey yourself," Mat said as he gingerly unwrapped the cloth around Arthur's head. Alfred frowned at the injury, which was now a lovely shade of purple.

"Well, the swelling's gone down a bit," Mat observed as he fished a fresh cloth from his pocket and began dressing the wound, "But that's going to leave one hell of a bruise for a while,"

"It's fine," Arthur insisted, "How's everyone else?" he asked. Mat smiled as he deftly wound the cloth around Arthur's skull.

"Oh, they're all right," he sighed, "Gil's got a concussion, Sam's got a broken arm, and Ward's got a twisted knee, but other than that everybody's just got a few bumps,"

"What happened to Gil?" Arthur asked, wincing as Mat tied the cloth.

"One of the beams in the cargo hold snapped and hit him right on the noggin," Mat elaborated as he finished tying the cloth and sat back in his seat, "He's in the infirmary, but I think he's all right,"

"Ugh, great," Arthur moaned, "The whole damned ship's falling apart,"

"Well I think we're lucky we only lost a mast and one of the beams, honestly," Alfred piped up, "Do you always get storms that bad out here?"

"Not usually," Mat said, "The storm last night was--"

"Fuckin' terrible," Arthur lamented. Mat threw him a look as Arthur shoved his blankets off and sat up. He blinked, obviously having trouble.

"Dizzy?" Mat asked.

"No," Arthur snapped.

"Sure you aren't," Mat said sarcastically as he put his hand up and held three fingers aloft, "How many fingers?" he asked.

"Get your bloody hand out of my face," Arthur growled as he threw his legs over the side of the bed. Alfred looked on worriedly.

"Answer my question and I will," Mat said coolly. Arthur frowned at his hand, squinting.

"Fff--three," he answered after far too long of a pause. Mat shook his head, bending over and looking intensely into Arthur's face.

"The hell are you doing?" Arthur grumbled, scowling.

"Your pupils aren't right," Mat observed, "You've got a concussion,"

"Great. Thanks," Arthur dismissed, looking around, "Where're my clothes?" he asked, turning around toward Alfred.

"You shouldn't be moving around," Mat warned.

"Mat, I was the captain of this ship the last time I checked," Arthur snapped, "Alfred, fetch a shirt and slacks for me, will you?"

"Um," Alfred said, stealing a look at the first mate, who nodded at him, "Sure,"

Alfred walked over to the other end of the room and grabbed said clothing out of Arthur's trunk. He walked over and handed them to Arthur, who took the shirt and attempted to pull it over his head. He paused with his arms halfway up, wincing.

"You need a hand?" Alfred offered.

"No," Arthur answered curtly as he managed to fling the shirt over his head. After a few awkward moments, he was dressed.

"See?" Arthur said to Mat, "I'm right as rain,"

"Why don't you give standing a try, then?" Mat asked dryly, clearly not buying Arthur's act.

Arthur put his hands on his knees, drew a deep breath, and stood. He swayed, but played it off as him taking a step forward instead. He staggered clumsily about the cabin for a while before Alfred finally got up and took him by the arm.

"I'm fine," he insisted, though he didn't resist when Alfred led him back to bed. Arthur sank onto it tiredly, defeated.

"Just take it easy for today," Mat advised, "There's nothing to see out there anyway--we're all still trying to figure out what the hell happened,"

"What about repairs?" Arthur asked.

"I'll keep you posted," Alfred offered, "I'll go out and get updates for you,"

"That sounds reasonable," Mat agreed, nodding at him.

Arthur growled, shaking his head and then grimacing in pain.

"Try not to move your head too much," Mat pointed out.

"Thanks for the tip," Arthur said glumly as Mat helped lay him out onto the mattress again. Mat snorted, chuckling.

"Well, if you'll excuse me, I have a temperamental Prussian to attend to," Mat said as he got up out of his seat, "I'm sure Alfred won't mind keeping you company for a bit,"

"No, not at all," Alfred answered, smiling. Mat tilted his head at him studiously.

"You make sure you get some rest too," he pointed out, "And the both of you should eat something and get some fluid in you,"

"Okay," Alfred promised.

"Oh, for God's sake, Mat, we're not children," Arthur groaned.

"Not exactly," Mat said with a shrug as he headed toward the door, "But it's close enough,"

"Thanks, Mat," Alfred said as Mat closed the door behind him.

"Terrific," Arthur grumbled as Alfred turned back toward him.

"Oh, come on, quit whining," Alfred scolded as he stretched, "Lying about all day isn't so bad, is it?"

"Damn doctors," Arthur said, looking up at Alfred, "What's wrong with my pupils, anyway?" he added as if offended. Alfred leaned down to look the other man in the face.

"Well...hm," he said as Arthur grinned up at him, "I don't think they're the same size,"

"Really?" Arthur asked, the grin fading into a frown.

"Guess that means you've got a concussion," Alfred said with a shrug, sitting back in his chair.

"I can't just lay here when my ship's ruined," Arthur stated, frowning up at the ceiling, "And my men are injured," he added. Alfred felt a pleasant fluttering in his chest at that last part.

"Care about them, do you?" Alfred asked, grinning.

"Uh, well..." Arthur said quietly, embarrassed, "They're my responsibility, you know?"

"Sure," Alfred said as he suppressed a yawn.

"Tired?" Arthur asked.

"Yeah, but I'm fine," Alfred insisted, "Maybe this is good--gives us some time to talk," he said before he could stop himself. Arthur looked at him expectantly.

"Listen, um," Alfred started, turning toward the windows to the left with a sigh, "About the other night--"

"Don't worry about it," Arthur interrupted.

"No, listen," Alfred pressed as he turned back toward Arthur. The other man was looking up at him, surprised, "I know what I said was horrible, and I shouldn't have said it,"

To his surprise, the other man was shaking his head--of course, he immediately grimaced and cursed under his breath at the movement.

"Don't apologize for speaking your mind," Arthur said through gritted teeth, "That's just stupid,"

Alfred paused, searching for what to say next; Arthur beat him to it.

"Besides, if anyone should apologize, it's me," he said very quietly as he turned toward his bookshelves--Alfred had to strain to hear him, "I went about everything wrong,"

Alfred found himself unable to speak.

"I guess I just...wanted you too badly," Arthur continued softly, still not meeting Alfred's gaze, "I didn't think anything through. So, if you want to leave..." he trailed off, waving his hand dismissively instead, "Then, you know..." he grumbled.

"Leave?" Alfred squeaked, "Why the hell would I want to leave?"

Arthur turned and looked up at him, smiling sadly.

"You don't need a reason," Arthur said, "If you want to, that's fine,"

Alfred blinked at him a few times before bursting out into laughter. Arthur looked at him as if he had gone completely insane.

"What's funny?" he asked uncertainly.

"You, that's what," Alfred laughed, "Don't you remember what I said last night? In the storm?"

Arthur furrowed his brow in concentration, frowning.

"You...called me a fucking idiot," Arthur said, watching Alfred's expression. He laughed as Alfred glared at him.

"Oh COME ON," Alfred teased as the other man laughed, "You remember what else!"

"Yeah, I do," Arthur answered, smiling at him sheepishly, "...did you mean it?"

Alfred sighed, rolling his eyes and leaning over him. Arthur looked up at him, hope glinting in those uneven pupils of his. Truth be told, he wasn't quite sure _what_ he had meant out in that storm. It just kind of...came out. But, really, the idea of being in love with Arthur didn't disturb him. There was no arguing that he found Arthur attractive. And from what little interaction he'd had with the Captain as well as with the crewmen, he seemed decent enough, when Alfred ignored the fact that he had been kidnapped. But that apology just now...Alfred smiled--he had made his mind up.

"Really?" Alfred asked sarcastically as he played with a tuft of Arthur's hair.

"That doesn't work on me, Love," Arthur whispered.

"Shut up," Alfred snapped as Arthur chuckled.

"Seriously, though--" Arthur began as Alfred cut him off by placing his mouth on top of the captain's, kissing him affectionately. Arthur made a sound, a satisfied purring noise from the back of his throat. Alfred grinned as they separated, looking down at the other man as a smile crept over his face.

"That answer your question, Cap'n?" Alfred asked.

"I think so, yes," Arthur answered after a moment's pause.

"Good," Alfred said matter-of-factly as he stood up and placed his glasses on the seat, "Now move over, my back is killing me," he commanded as he climbed into bed beside Arthur. Alfred sighed happily as his achy body gratefully sank into the mattress.

"Warmed it up for ya," Arthur teased.

"Thanks," Alfred answered with a grin, turning his head to look at him. God, he was beautiful. Even with a piece of tattered cloth wrapped around his head, he still managed to look majestic. Lazy green eyes blinked at him as he smiled.

"I'll do things right this time," Arthur promised quietly.

"Me too," Alfred agreed, yawning.

"G'night," Arthur said.

"G'night," Alfred murmured as he fell asleep.

* * *

"Hey, wake up," a soft voice commanded. Arthur pried his eyes open with a grimace--ugh, his head felt like it was going to split in-two. Mat swam into view, looking down at him worriedly.

"How's your head?" he asked quietly, even for him.

"Horrible," Arthur muttered as his first mate peered into his eyes.

"Well the pupils are back to normal," he announced softly, "That's a good sign,"

"Great," Arthur wheezed as he slammed his eyes shut. The light coming in through the windows felt like daggers piercing his skull. "How are things going outside?" he asked.

"They're moving along," Mat whispered.

"What?" Arthur asked, "Speak up, Mat, I can hardly hear you,"

"Shh," Mat scolded. Arthur opened his eyes--Mat was pointing to the other side of the bed.

"Oh," Arthur whispered, carefully turning to look. Alfred was out cold, his sleeping face turned toward him peacefully. He smiled, turning back toward Mat.

"I take it things are okay between the two of you for now," Mat whispered with a tired smile, "Glad he finally got some rest--the both of you need it,"

"I could say the same for you," Arthur pointed out, "Get some sleep, Doc,"

"I will, as soon as I'm finished with my patients," Mat yawned, "I brought some stuff," he added as he gestured toward a small tray with food and two cups on the chair, "The two of you eat that up,"

"Right," Arthur promised as Mat headed outside. He watched his first mate leave and stole another look at Alfred--still out. He drew a deep breath and sat up, pausing to let the throbbing in his head wash over him before reaching out to grab one of the cups from the tray. He missed, toppling the cup over onto the floor with a loud clunk. He jumped, looking back over at Alfred nervously. The man didn't even flinch.

"You sleep like a dead man, Alfred," he chuckled, cautiously leaning over and grabbing a piece of bread. He gnawed on it slowly, trying not to irritate his aching head any more than it already was. He'd give it a few minutes, and then go out and see what was going on outside.

* * *

"My ship," Arthur moaned forlornly as he unsteadily wandered out onto the deck. The mast had been reduced to a splintered hunk of wood at the top, sharp uneven spires pointed toward the heavens. Everything was soaked, the deck slick with water even as the able-bodied men attempted to mop it up. He approached two of them, who nodded at him respectfully.

"Cap'n," they both said as they leaned tiredly on their mops.

"Afternoon, gents," Arthur greeted as he hid a grimace. His head felt like it was about to explode. He adjusted his hat, which, he recalled with a frown, was also drenched. He had lost some of his trinkets on it in the wind, and the waterlogged feathers clung to the hat pitifully. No matter--he was the captain, damn it, and captains wore hats.

"What a bloody mess," he commented, causing the other two to murmur in agreement, "You two all right?"

"Just a few scrapes, Cap'n," one of them answered, a Scotsman named Pete, "Glad to see you up and abou', after last night,"

"Aye, I'm fine," Arthur dismissed, looking up at the mast sadly, "Where's Sam?" he asked.

"I think he's at the helm, Cap'n," Pete answered.

"Right," Arthur answered as he took off in that direction. He paused, waiting for the deck beneath him to stop swirling about.

"You all right there, Cap'n?" the other man asked warily.

"I said I'm fine, gents," Arthur answered gruffly as he walked over to the steps to the helm. He realized he was probably staggering a little, but he'd be damned if a lump on the head would keep him from fixing his ship. He leaned heavily on the railing as he slowly ascended the steps, arriving finally at the helm. A broad-shouldered man with a red beard stood at the ship's wheel, making measurements with a sextant. He turned around as Arthur approached.

"Captain!" he exclaimed, smiling at him, "Glad to see you up,"

"Afternoon, Sam," Arthur greeted tiredly--that walk up the steps had really drained him for some reason. He looked the man over, frowning at how his arm was in a sling.

"I got slammed into by a goddamn cannon below deck," Sam muttered with a half-shrug, "Figures, right? But I only need one good arm to make measurements...well, sort of," he added with a sheepish grin as he laid the instrument onto the deck.

"How far off course are we?" Arthur asked the boatswain as he walked over and put his hand on the ship's wheel.

"Not as bad as I'd anticipated, actually," Sam admitted, "But we're going to need to make some serious repairs," he added glumly. Arthur exhaled loudly, looking out at what was once the main mast.

"It just had to be the goddamn mast," he said with a frown, "How's it looking below deck?"

"Not terrible, considering," Sam said, "Although the other gents are still trying to bail out the water we took on,"

Arthur nodded as his left eye twitched involuntarily. His head was throbbing angrily at him, and he was starting to see patches of white. He blinked them away, trying to focus on the task at hand.

"The broken beam we can probably fix on ship," Arthur figured, trying to think of what materials were available, "How's Ward?"

"His leg's pretty fucked up," Sam answered, "I don't know how much he'll be able to build,"

"Alfred's a carpenter," Arthur recalled with a determined smile, "He could give 'im a hand,"

"That could work," Sam agreed, nodding, "But we can't build a mast without a tree," he added. Arthur was about to agree with him as someone quietly walked up behind him.

"Captain," Mat said politely as he approached, though Arthur recognized that look on his face as one of disdain.

"Afternoon," Arthur greeted, giving him a stern look. Mat didn't attempt to argue with him, but it looked like he wanted to, "Sam and I were just discussing our options,"

"We're gonna need a new mast," Mat pointed out as he folded his arms over his chest, "Can't get that at sea,"

"The closest port with a shipyard would be at Hortensia," Arthur said slyly, grinning at Mat as the man's face paled, "Been a while since you've been there, 'ey, Mat?"

Sam snickered, and Mat glared at him over his glasses.

"I'm not getting off the damn boat if that's where we have to go," Mat protested, glaring at Arthur with simmering violet eyes.

"Nah, she'll hunt your ass down if you stay in one place for too long," Sam laughed as Arthur snorted, "Your best bet would be to keep moving, maybe hide in a longboat or something 'n' just float around for a while,"

"Shut up," Mat snapped, "How long until we can get there though, without the main sails?"

Arthur frowned, looking out at the broken mast thoughtfully. With the sails fully functional and a prevailing northwest wind, about seven days. Without that, though...

"About two weeks," he said glumly, "Maybe less, but that's assuming the wind is in our favor with what sails we do have, and that it doesn't die down before we hit the midway mark,"

"Shall I set us on a course for Hortensia, then, Captain?" Sam asked, stealing a look at Mat before turning back to Arthur.

"Set us out for Hortensia," Arthur commanded as Mat blanched, "How are things on your end, Doc?" he asked, a smarmy grin forming on his lips.

"Oh, just great," Mat sighed, "Fantastic, actually," he frowned, gesturing for Arthur to follow him down the steps and onto the main deck. Arthur managed to get down the stairs with minimal clawing at the walls for support under Mat's watchful eye.

"You shouldn't be up," Mat warned quietly as soon as they were out of earshot, "You have a _head injury_ ," he said pointedly.

"It's getting better," Arthur insisted as he blinked away a few more blotches of white dancing across his vision, "I just wanted to see how things were going,"

"Where's Alfred?" Mat asked, looking around, "I thought he was supposed to come out and check on things for you,"

"He's still asleep," Arthur answered, "I didn't want to disturb him,"

Mat removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes tiredly.

"All right, you've seen the ship. Now get back to bed," his first mate insisted, "I am _not_ dragging you back to your cabin if you faint on me,"

"I _don't_ faint," Arthur bristled.

"You will if you keep this up," Mat warned, "Get back to your cabin, Captain. Doctor's orders,"

Arthur was about to retaliate, but felt too drained and decided against it.

"Fine," he surrendered as he blinked away more white patches, "I'm leaving,"

"Good," Mat said coolly as he watched Arthur make his way back to his cabin. The ship seemed a lot longer than he remembered as he trudged along the deck. By the time he got into his cabin and kicked the door closed, his vision was almost entirely fading into white. He stumbled over to bed, taking his hat off and tossing it onto the chair beside Alfred's side of the bed. He managed to collapse onto the mattress before passing out.

* * *

"Arthur?" someone called.

"Huh?" Arthur answered, cracking one eye open. Alfred was looking him over worriedly.

"You okay?" he asked.

"...yes?" Arthur guessed. His head felt like it was going to burst, and he was so damned dizzy he felt like he was going to vomit. He moaned in agony.

"You were making a lot of noise," Alfred pointed out.

"Sorry," Arthur said quietly as he bit back a wave of nausea.

"No, no, not that," Alfred insisted, "You were crying out in your sleep," he said quietly, "Want me to go find Mat?"

"No!" Arthur practically screamed, "No, I just need to lie down for a bit,"

"But you've _been_ lying down," Alfred pointed out, "How bad is the pain?"

Arthur hesitated before answering, taking a deep breath.

"Bad," he said finally, trying to open his other eye and failing miserably. Movement to his left caught his attention as Alfred leapt out of bed and headed for the door.

"Where're you--?" Arthur asked.

"Stay here," Alfred commanded as he threw the door open and bounded outside. Arthur sighed, wincing as his head throbbed. The ceiling swam above him in a dizzying spiral--he closed his eyes to try and keep it out. He felt disoriented, weak.

The next thing he knew, Mat and Alfred were on either side of him, and Mat was trying to force feed him some strange combination of herbs. It smelled disgusting, and Arthur recalled protesting, but was fairly certain he had eaten some of whatever it was. He opened one eye as Mat asked him a question, but he wasn't sure what it was.

"Huh?" he asked blearily as everything went dark.

* * *

Alfred looked on worriedly as Arthur went limp and Mat grabbed his wrist.

"Pulse is normal," he muttered to himself, seeming to be relieved at that, "But the swelling needs to come down before he'll start improving," he added, looking over at Alfred.

"Will that stuff reduce swelling?" Alfred asked, pointing toward the now half-empty bowl of medicines Arthur had referred to as "putrid slop" just a few moments prior.

"It should," Mat said, "And it should help ease the headache a little,"

"What's in it?" Alfred asked, eager to keep the conversation going to keep him from panicking. The first mate seemed to sense his unease and humored him.

"Feverfew, chamomile, peppermint, a little valerian..." he paused, ticking the herbs off on his fingers, "Ah, and skullcap," he finished, "That and feverfew are the stronger pain reducers that I've got," he elaborated. He looked down as Arthur moaned miserably in his sleep, "Well if you'd done what I said and stayed in bed, you wouldn't be in so much pain," he pointed out. He sighed, flipping the wet cloth on the captain's forehead over.

"I should have kept an eye on him," Alfred mumbled.

"Somehow I don't think that would have mattered," Mat said with a shake of his head, "This is the most stubborn fool you're ever going to meet,"

"I heard that," Arthur slurred.

"Good," Mat said curtly, though he looked relieved, "I've given you some pain medication," he explained, "You should be feeling better soon,"

"Thank God," Arthur sighed, "Where's Alfred?"

"Over here," Alfred answered, turning to Mat, "Any idea how long that stuff takes to work?"

"Depends," Mat shrugged, "I gave him a large dose, so it shouldn't be too long,"

"Thanks, Mat," Arthur said drowsily.

"Sure," Mat said with a slight grin, "But STAY IN BED," he scolded, "I mean it,"

"Sure thing," Arthur promised.

Mat waited until he was certain Arthur had fallen asleep again before leaving, giving Alfred explicit instructions on what to do if his condition took a turn for the worse. Alfred frowned worriedly, watching the man rest in what he hoped was a peaceful slumber.


	6. Chapter 6

 

Arthur jolted awake, his head panging angrily at him, but not as badly as he remembered. He looked up--Alfred was watching him warily from his bedside.

"Hello, Love," Arthur greeted.

"Hi," Alfred answered with an embarrassed grin, "How are you feeling?"

Arthur paused before answering, frowning thoughtfully.

"It's better," he decided, "The ceiling's staying in one place, anyhow,"

"Good," Alfred praised with a smile that made Arthur feel warm.

"How long was I out?" he asked.

"Only about three hours," Alfred answered with a shrug, "You didn't miss anything, if that's what you're wondering,"

"Good," Arthur said as he threw an arm over his eyes to keep the light out, "Ugh," he moaned.

"What?" Alfred asked worriedly.

"Goddamn light won't shut up," he grumbled. A rustling sound, footfalls, and the soft thump of the chair being placed on the floor met his ears, "What're you doing?" he asked.

"Blowing out the lantern," Alfred answered from what Arthur guessed was the middle of the room, "It's starting to get dark out now, anyway, so that ought to help,"

Footsteps and sounds directly next to Arthur's bed announced the other man taking his seat again.

"Thanks," he said with a bitter chuckle, "I'm a bloody mess, aren't I?"

"Nah, you're better than you were earlier," Alfred said. He paused, causing Arthur to peek out from behind his arm at him. The other man looked positively miserable.

"What's with the long face?" Arthur asked. Alfred frowned even more deeply and shook his head, "What?" Arthur pressed.

"You sounded horrible earlier," he answered after a moment's pause, "I thought you were going to die,"

Arthur forced himself to take his arm from his face, looking up at the other man worriedly. In the dim light of the setting sun, Alfred's blue eyes shone like sapphires at him, brimming with something other than the vitality Arthur had instantly been struck with upon meeting him; they were radiating guilt.

"Don't fret, Love, I'm fine," Arthur said, "Mat said so," he added for emphasis.

"But it's my fault," Alfred blurted.

"No, it's not," Arthur insisted, "Stop saying that--it's making my head hurt," he added. Alfred went quiet, looking at him uncertainly.

"Alfred, listen," Arthur said quietly, "I am going to be just fine,"

"So you were just being dramatic earlier, then?" Alfred asked. Arthur tried to raise an eyebrow, but was thwarted by his head panging at him.

"Well I wouldn't say _that_ ," he teased as Alfred laughed. Arthur looked him over, happy to see his smile reach his blue eyes and give life to them again, "Hey, Alfred?" he murmured as his eyes fell closed of their own accord.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"I'm kind of having trouble staying awake, so..." he trailed off sleepily.

"It's okay, go ahead," Alfred reassured him. Arthur thought he felt the other man take hold of his hand, but he wasn't sure.

* * *

Alfred quietly crept out of the cabin and onto the deck, closing the door behind him. He had stayed up most of the night with Arthur, watching him rest. Thankfully, the night had been uneventful. One thing he did discover, however, was just how much Arthur talked in his sleep. Maybe it was from the medication Mat had administered to him? Alfred had thought the pirate was awake several times as he suddenly started carrying on conversations with him, but for the most part they had made absolutely no sense. Alfred smiled; the topics had ranged from "where'd the oars go?" to "he looks suspicious and he has my hat. Kill him." Alfred's favorite exchange so far had been "Did you bring in these goddamned frogs, Alfred? You know I hate them." When Alfred had insisted that he hadn't, the man had squirmed and claimed that they were all over him and demanded that Alfred remove them at once. He didn't stop flailing about until Alfred had awkwardly run his hands across his arms and chest, then muttered something about how it had taken him too long before slipping back into silence. He shook his head--what a night.

He headed for the galley as his stomach loudly rumbled. He couldn't recall the last time he had eaten something. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the salt air as he looked out at the ocean. Like yesterday, the water was like glass. The other men had managed to get the other sails mounted, but they did little good without a breeze. It was about eight 'o' clock, he reckoned as he squinted at the morning sun. A few of the crewmen waved at him or nodded as he walked past, going about their morning work quietly. Alfred paused as he passed a man leaning against a stack of crates, fast asleep.

"Mat?" he asked. The first mate didn't stir, his chest rising and falling quietly as his strand of curly hair bobbed. Alfred looked up as someone walked behind him.

"Eh, let him rest," the man said with a shrug. His arm was in a sling, "He's been running around like a madman takin' care of everybody. Must've stopped for a rest 'n' passed out,"

"Right," Alfred nodded, "What happened to your arm?"

The man sighed, shaking his head.

"Seas were so rough, one of the cannons broke loose 'n' slammed right into me," the man answered, "Bloody storm,"

"It was pretty bad," Alfred agreed.

"Say, you're Alfred, right?" the man asked as he tilted his head inquisitively. Alfred nodded. "I'm Sam," the man introduced, "From what I hear, you've got some carpentry skills, yeah?"

"I'm just an apprentice, but I know a few things," Alfred admitted.

"Great. You can give Ward a hand down below--one of the beams is cracked 'n' we need to replace it," Sam said, "Head down to the cargo hold when you're ready,"

"All right, I will," Alfred answered enthusiastically, excited to not being told to mop again.

"How's the Captain?" Sam asked quietly.

"He's doing better," Alfred said, "Mat fixed him up,"

"Good," Sam nodded, "He looked like hell yesterday. Okay," he said as he turned to leave, "You head downstairs when you're ready 'n' see if Ward needs help,"

"Right," Alfred answered. He made his way down to the galley, ate some stale bread and what he was pretty certain was hardtack, but whatever it was had filled him up. He headed down to the cargo hold, where four men were discussing the state of the ship.

"Well if you'd just move the bloody crates, we could use that beam," one of them said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"That one's rotten," another much older man insisted. He looked rather spindly, with crooked hands and fingers that could only belong to a craftsman--surely this was Ward. The four of them looked up as Alfred walked into the room.

"Hello," he greeted, "Sam sent me down here to give you a hand,"

The four men looked at each other uncertainly before turning back toward him.

"I'm a carpenter," he elaborated, annoyed. The other men appeared pleased by this, as three of them nodded approvingly.

"Oh," the spindly man said, "Great!" he exclaimed as he hobbled over toward him, "The name's Ward," he introduced, "I'm the head carpenter on this here ship. My leg's out of commission, so I need all the help I can get,"

"How can I help?" Alfred asked. One of the men muttered something under his breath and burst into laughter. Ward glared at him and the guy beside him.

"Oi, Smitty, Tom--if you ain't gonna to be useful, go see what Sam has for you to do," he scolded. Smitty and Tom both threw him a look, one of contempt and the other of incredulity.

"Well I don't see why we need help from the Captain's little bitch boy," one of them said with a crooked smile revealing maybe three teeth--Alfred recognized him as the one who hauled George onto the deck when he was drunk the other day, "Ain't that right, Tom?"

"All right, Smit, knock it off," the man called Tom said, brushing his blonde bangs from his eyes, "Go upstairs and get workin' on that quarterdeck before Mat comes after you. You're already on notice for fuckin' up the jib sail this morning,"

Smitty glared at him before lumbering past Alfred, glaring at him savagely as he went.

"The hell's his problem?" Alfred blurted as soon as he was out of earshot.

"Everything's his problem," Tom sighed, "Ornery son of a bitch,"

"Let's just get to work, shall we?" asked the third man Alfred recognized as the drunk man lying in a longboat two days prior.

"Right, then, let's start," Ward said, "What's your name, again?" he asked.

"Alfred," he answered.

"All right, Al, give George a hand in movin' that there beam," Ward said as he pointed a spindly finger toward the back of the hold, "See if there's somethin' there we can use to patch this place up,"

* * *

Alfred lost track of how long he was in the cargo hold, moving wooden planks here and there amid the ankle-deep water, taking measurements, and poring over blueprints with Tom, George, and Ward. By the time they had a plan together, his arms were already aching, but he was more than happy to be doing something useful.

"All right, the brace is in, so we should be able to take the damaged beam out," Ward announced as Alfred and Tom lugged the replacement beam forward and placed it beneath the damaged one, "Just gotta get rid of the old one. George, fetch the ladders, will ya?"

"Aye," George muttered as he sloshed over to the other side of the cargo hold. Alfred took the opportunity to wipe his forehead with the back of his hand.

"How you holdin' up?" Tom asked as he rolled his shoulders.

"Great," Alfred answered, "Feels good to be woodworking again," he added. Tom grinned at him as George returned with a ladder beneath each arm.

"All right, set 'em up and grab a couple of saws, there," Ward instructed from where he leaned against a stack of crates, "We'll have to take it apart piecewise,"

Tom and Alfred scrambled up the ladders and began sawing blocks off of the supported beam, handing them down to George as they went. Tom was a pleasant chap, and started carrying on a conversation between the four of them.

"So I hear the Cap'n almost got his head taken off during that storm," he said as he handed a chunk of splintered wood down to George, "That true?"

"Kind of, yeah," Alfred said, "The mast broke and headed right for us,"

"You were up there with him?" George asked.

"Yeah, I was trying to help," Alfred said, choosing his words very carefully. The last thing he needed was to make Arthur sound weak.

"So he got clocked by the mast?" Tom asked as George whistled lowly, "He's lucky he escaped with a bump on his head,"

"Nah, I heard he hit his head when he ducked," Ward corrected, "Dragged you down with 'im and saved your life, he did,"

Alfred paused, letting the other men talk amongst themselves about Arthur's impeccable timing and lightning-fast reflexes. He grinned as he sawed into the beam. If that's what they thought had happened, he wasn't about to correct them.

"He's one brave son of a bitch, he is," Ward commented, "Runnin' off in a storm like that, kept us from capsizin' or hittin' those goddamn shoals,"

The others muttered their agreement, and Alfred put his focus into his work to hide his proud smile. After several hours of sawing and maneuvering beams, the heavy wooden replacement plank was at last put into place. Alfred joined the other men in leaning tiredly on the crates adjacent to the beam.

"Fine job, gents," Ward praised, "Now we just have a bloody mast to build," he added with a chuckle, "Gimme a hand tomorrow and we can at least start rebuildin' the booms,"

The other three men muttered their agreement, clapped one another on the back, and headed back up to the main deck. Alfred paused as he reached the top of the steps. It was almost dark out.

"Sunset?" he blurted as Tom walked up the steps behind him.

"What's the hold up?" Tom demanded as Alfred scurried out of the stairwell, "Huh, that time already, is it?" he added as he walked out onto the deck. Alfred looked up as a hulking man approached and bumped into Tom's shoulder to throw him off-balance. Tom recovered quickly, glaring up at him.

"Watch where you're goin,' Smitty," he growled.

"Why don't you watch where _you're_ goin,' Tom?" the man sneered back, "Did the lot of you have fun in the cargo hold? At least, I know _you_ would've," he added with a wicked grin. Tom glared at him as the man guffawed, heading past them and down the stairwell. Tom sighed, shaking his head.

"He's a real pain in the ass," Alfred stated in annoyance. Tom snorted, gesturing for him to follow him out toward the rail.

"Listen, don't let that idiot get to you," Tom said quietly as he leaned his elbows on the railing, "He likes to antagonize, especially...uh..." he trailed off, running his hand through his hair.

"Especially...?" Alfred pried. He looked up as Sam approached from behind Tom and placed a hand on his waist. Tom looked up in surprise as Sam leaned down and pecked him on the lips.

"Sam," he warned, throwing a look over at Alfred. Sam retracted his hand hurriedly, embarrassed.

"Sorry," he muttered.

"Oh, don't mind me," Alfred blurted, taking a few steps backward in embarrassment.

"No, it's fine," Tom said with a chuckle, "At any rate, _that's_ what his problem is,"

"Who?" Sam asked with a frown.

"Smitty," Tom answered with a dismissive shake of his head, "Just him being him,"

"Fuckin' prick," Sam growled as he leaned against the railing next to Tom, "Fuckin' hypocrite, too--I know he's had men before,"

"Yeah, well, he gets his jollies in pokin' his nose in everyone else's business," Tom reasoned, looking over at Alfred tiredly, "I don't know about you two, but I'm gonna hit the sack," he said as he turned back toward Sam, "Night," he said as he clapped Sam on the shoulder.

"Night," Sam and Alfred called as Tom headed for the barracks. Sam stretched his good arm as he turned toward Alfred.

"How'd it go? Get that beam fixed?" Sam asked with a smile.

"Yeah, it's finished," Alfred answered.

"Good," Sam praised, turning away from him awkwardly, "Erm, about just now..."

"I don't mind," Alfred said with a shake of his head, "It doesn't bother me at all,"

Sam turned his head slightly to look him over, then nodded. The two of them were quiet for a bit, looking out into the twilight and listening to the soft lapping of water against the hull of the ship. Alfred yawned, leaning against the rail tiredly.

"You callin' it a night?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, after I grab something to eat for Arth--I mean, the Captain," Alfred hurriedly corrected . Sam smiled at him and looked back out at the sea.

"I've a feeling that you're good for 'im," Sam mused as he rested his foot on the lower rail, "Mat told me about how you kept 'im from being decapitated,"

"It wasn't that great, really," Alfred muttered, "Considering I slammed his head into the floor,"

"Don't downplay it," Sam said with a chuckle, "Besides, you got us back on course when we showed up so we didn't hit those shoals. 'N' the Captain wouldn't have brought you on board 'n' offered to share his cabin with you if you 'weren't that great,'" he added with a smirk. Alfred was grateful for the fact that the sun had disappeared as his face positively blazed crimson.

"Well, I'm gonna see how the quarterdeck's looking," Sam announced as he pushed off of the railing, "See you round," he said with a wave.

"Uh, yeah, see you," Alfred answered awkwardly as the other man walked away. Alfred stared out into the twilight for a while before heading to the galley.

When he arrived back at the cabin, Arthur was sitting at his table, working on a map by the dim light of a single candle. He had donned his red coat once again, and looked up as Alfred walked in.

"You hungry?" Alfred asked as he kicked the cabin door closed behind him, "Dinner is served!" he announced as he plunked the food down in front of Arthur and turned around to retrieve the other chair.

"Starving," Arthur said, "Thanks. How'd it go out there today?" he asked as Alfred set the chair down and sat in it.

"Great," Alfred said excitedly as he began telling him about his day, about the measurements he had made, how the beam had to be taken apart, about how the calculations were made, and how the beam eventually had been replaced. He left out the bits regarding Smitty, though, not wanting to spoil the good mood. Arthur munched on his food quietly, hanging onto his every word with a slight grin.

"Sounds like you've been busy," Arthur said, leaning back in his seat.

"Yeah, but it's good to get to work again," Alfred sighed, "I love it,"

"I'm glad you do," Arthur said with a cockeyed smile, "Because I'm sure there's a lot of things that need fixing on this ship after that storm,"

"Bring it on," Alfred challenged with a determined smirk, "How are you feeling?" he asked as he tilted his head at him, "I'm actually surprised to see you out of bed," he admitted.

"Pah, I'm fine," Arthur snorted. Alfred cocked an eyebrow at him, and the other man sighed.

"Actually, I just got out of bed about an hour ago," he grumbled, shrugging his shoulders, "I had to do _some_ thing--I can't just lie around all day, Alfred," he added defensively.

"How's your head?" Alfred asked as he got up and leaned over him.

"Still hurts," he said, "But laying about was driving me insane, so I started some charting,"

Alfred paused, looking down at the map. Arthur had made notes all over it in black ink, marking points with symbols and dotted or dashed lines.

"What's this mean?" Alfred asked as he pointed to a triangle on the most recently drawn route, based upon the glinting of the ink in the candlelight.

"Ah, that's a change in trajectory," Arthur answered with a smile, obviously very pleased in Alfred's interest in his work, "I'm mapping out our route to Hortensia,"

"Hortensia?" Alfred asked inquisitively.

"It's a port, on a little spit of an island," Arthur elaborated as he drew Alfred close to him, "It's where we're going to have to go to build a new mast,"

"Oh," Alfred said as Arthur drew him onto his lap, "Um...is it far?" he faltered a little in surprise.

"Not very, though it'll be slow-going without the main sails," Arthur said glumly, "It's right in here," he added as he pointed to a spot on the map.

"How long until we get there?" Alfred asked, blushing a little as he looked down into Arthur's face. He was sitting on the man's lap, for God's sake, but...it felt nice. Nice and comfortable. Arthur frowned thoughtfully before answering.

"Probably another week and a half, maybe two," he reasoned as he grinned up at him.

"Well that's fine," Alfred said, "That'll give you plenty of time to recuperate,"

Arthur threw him a look, frowning.

"I don't need to recuperate, I'm fine," he insisted hotly.

"Sure you are," Alfred said dryly. The other man opened his mouth to protest, but Alfred cut him off with a kiss, "Now: I think you should get back into bed," he decided as he felt his cheeks burning.

"But I spent all bloody day in bed," Arthur whined, but Alfred leaned down and kissed him again and his argument fell short.

"Besides, I'll be going to bed too," Alfred whispered as he stood up and walked over to the bed, "Blow that candle out, would you?"

He guessed Arthur was fine with his proposal, as the dim light at the other end of the room abruptly went out. He took off his boots and sprawled out on the mattress, feeling it sink on the opposite side as Arthur shrugged his coat off and lay down next to him. Alfred reached out and pulled the other man to his chest, breathing into his hair. He felt nervous, but pushed it aside in favor of not disturbing the moment. It just felt...natural, somehow, like they'd always been this way.

"I'm not even tired," Arthur commented, "Though I'll bet you are," he added.

"Yeah, I am," Alfred admitted, "And you will be too, soon enough,"

"...maybe," Arthur mumbled.

Alfred laughed, rubbing the other man's arm, "I'm glad you're feeling better,"

"Me too, Love," Arthur said as Alfred drew him closer and kissed him on the top of his head, nerves forgotten, "I'll be out at the helm by tomorrow," he promised groggily as he yawned into Alfred's chest.

"We'll see," Alfred said softly.

"I _will_ ," Arthur warned.

"Okay," Alfred conceded, "Just try and relax,"

Arthur muttered something at him, but it didn't sound pleasant.

"What was that?" Alfred teased.

"Nothing," Arthur mumbled as he yawned again. Alfred rubbed his back, smiling to himself as Arthur snored softly into his chest.

* * *

Arthur had indeed returned to the helm the next day, much to Alfred and Mat's displeasure, but was in much better shape than before. His condition steadily improved over the next few days, though the headache remained a constant annoyance. He ignored it fairly well, Alfred reasoned, not showing his discomfort until he retired to his cabin and collapsed onto his mattress at the end of the day. Mat had been able to give him some medicines to dull the pain, which seemed to be helping.

Alfred had been busy making repairs to the ship, helping Ward and Tom with fixing cracked rails, replacing rotted planks, and stabilizing the ones that needed to be replaced. Alfred relished the work, feeling at home with a hammer and nails in his hands and making a true difference in the state of the ship. The crewmen had been overall pleasant with him, treating him as one of the guys, so to speak. Of course, there were a few of them who either wanted nothing to do with him or preferred to poke fun at him, but he was willing to ignore them for Arthur's sake. That obnoxious Prussian guy and his friend Smitty were two whom Alfred actively avoided while working.

The next weeks rolled by like clockwork, with Arthur getting back to his usual confident self and the crewmen eager to go on shore for a while. He and Arthur had plenty of time to properly get to know one another a little (with surprisingly little physical interaction over the past several days), spending many of their evenings leaned against the railing and talking as they ate their dinners. Turned out Arthur was from London, and had been some kind of politician before turning to piracy. He was skimpy on the details, but it suited Alfred fine for now. For Alfred's part, he had told Arthur about how he had been born in the New World, and had lost his family to thieves breaking into his home when he was just a boy. He had never told that particular tale to anyone, surprising himself in blurting it out, and Arthur had patiently and sympathetically listened. Countless other stories, both pleasant and not so pleasant, had passed between the two of them as the days went by. Alfred had to admit, he had never felt so comfortable talking to anyone like this before, unafraid of judgment or ridicule, and it was nice.

Before Alfred knew it, land was finally within sight. He stood against the railing, looking out at the small island approaching from the bow. Heavy footsteps announced Arthur's presence before he even had time to turn around. The captain leaned on the railing next to him.

"Nearly there," he announced with a smile, his blonde bangs dancing about in the breeze beneath his hat, "We'll have a new mast in no time,"

"What's this place like?" Alfred asked as he looked up at him. Arthur paused, looking out at the sea for a moment before responding.

"Busy," he finally answered, "Full of...characters," he added slyly.

"Characters?" Alfred repeated curiously as Mat walked past them.

"Ah, yes, the good doctor knows all about the types that inhabit Hortensia, don't you, Mat?" Arthur called, causing Mat to stop dead in his tracks and glare at him.

"Shut the hell up," he snapped, continuing on his way in a huff. Arthur laughed, his green eyes glinting with mischief.

"What's his problem?" Alfred asked as he cocked an eyebrow after him.

"He's got a lady friend there who he'd rather not see again," Arthur explained as another chuckle shook his shoulders.

"Why?" Alfred asked, intrigued.

"Well, she's a might...possessive," Arthur elaborated with a wave of his wrist, "Damn near stalks him every time she sees the Tern roll in,"

"And he doesn't like her? Why's that?" Alfred pried. Arthur threw him a look before bursting into a peal of laughter.

"Why you little gossip," he laughed as he drew him close, "I didn't think you were the type,"

"What?" Alfred demanded as he pushed him away playfully, "It's just interesting, that's all,"

"Mm, I'll say," Arthur said slyly as he walked his fingers up Alfred's back, "I think our first mate had quite an evening with his little lady friend...shall we have one of our own?"

Alfred yelped as the captain elegantly spun him and kissed him determinedly on the lips. He leaned into him and eagerly reciprocated.

"Well? Shall we?" Arthur asked with a devilish grin that made Alfred weak in the knees.

"Let's go," Alfred whispered with a nod as they made their way back to Arthur's cabin.

* * *

Alfred moaned softly as Arthur cradled him close to his body and ran his lips along his neck. He hadn't realized how much he had missed the more intimate way he had interacted with Arthur that first day, how he observantly and tenderly ran his hands along Alfred's body and eventually, exquisitely, moved within him. He had managed to land a few kisses along Arthur's body and rake his hands over his back this time, much to the other man's delight as it spurred him on.

"You all right, Love?" Arthur muttered as he slid his fingers along Alfred's side.

"Mm-hmm," Alfred responded dreamily as he rolled over and pecked him on the lips. Arthur drew him in for a proper kiss, drawing a satisfied purr from him. He suddenly sat up, looking Arthur over curiously.

"What?" Arthur asked as Alfred smiled at him.

"Nothing," he sighed as he climbed on top of the captain, straddling him. Arthur looked up in surprise, which was quickly replaced by a lustful stare, "I just...wonder, that's all," he said absently as he began massaging the other man's chest. Arthur sighed happily, tilting his head back with a satisfied smile.

"Wonder 'bout what?" he mumbled as Alfred explored him with his fingertips.

"Well, you remember what happened with my hair?" Alfred asked.

"How could I forget?" Arthur said huskily, sighing again as Alfred focused his attention on his abdomen, "What about it? I kept my word on that," he said pointedly, grabbing Alfred's wrists and looking him in the eyes.

"I know you did," Alfred said with a smile, and Arthur released his hands. He continued exploring his chest, moving down onto his lower ribcage now, "But I can't help but wonder if you have an...area...like that on your body, too," he said quietly, feeling heat rising in his cheeks. Life with Arthur was changing him, he realized, making him more bold, but he welcomed it.

"Oh, I think you know where _that_ is, Love," Arthur murmured with a sly grin.

"I don't mean _that_ ," Alfred teased as he massaged Arthur's collarbone, "I mean--" he was cut off as Arthur's green eyes flew open and he inhaled sharply. Alfred paused, looking down at him curiously as Arthur blinked back in surprise. He gently prodded the same area with his fingers, and Arthur arched his back and moaned.

"No way," Alfred breathed with a triumphant smile. He doubled down on the tiny spot above Arthur's collarbone, applying increased pressure with his fingers.

"Whoa!" Arthur cried out, lurching upward and falling back down again. Alfred continued massaging the spot on the pirate's chest, drawing out a low groan from him.

"W-wait--" Arthur gasped, clumsily trying to grab Alfred's wrists. Alfred reached out and easily subdued him, pinning his hands at his sides as he slid his tongue over Arthur's collarbone. The sounds passing the other man's lips were invigorating, making Alfred shudder. He playfully nipped at him with his teeth; Arthur emitted a strangled cry, bucking against him and grimacing. Alfred noted with a thrill that the other man was, um...at attention underneath him.

"A-Alfred..." Arthur breathed between gasps.

"Yes?" Alfred asked innocently as he leaned down and sucked on his collarbone, drawing the blood up to the surface of the pirate's skin as Arthur cried out and squirmed beneath him.

"Alfred!" the other man cried as he grit his teeth, "Oh, bloody HELL, Alfred!"

"Ah, I don't think this is what hell is like, my dear Captain," Alfred breathed seductively, returning his attention to the other man's collarbone. He started babbling disjointed pleas alternating between telling him to stop and not to stop, twisting as Alfred pinned him down and persistently poked at the area with his tongue. Alfred grinned in satisfaction as Arthur's breathing picked up and he bucked his hips against Alfred's. He returned the motion as he also sought release, moving on top of him until a raw, primal sound broke free from the pirate as he came shortly after his partner. Arthur sank onto the bed, spent, as he looked up at Alfred with half-lidded green eyes.

"W-whoa," Arthur breathed as Alfred slid off of him and drew him into his arms, "B...bloody hell," he declared.

"You were magnificent, Arthur," Alfred praised as he kissed him softly on the forehead, "How was I?" he asked playfully as the man murmured something quietly at him, "What? I didn't catch that,"

"I love you," Arthur breathed deliriously into his chest.

Alfred felt himself turning red again as he shifted so he could see Arthur's face. He appeared to be drifting off, as Alfred felt like doing himself, as he put his face next to the pirate's ear.

"Love you, too," he whispered before sinking into sleep.

* * *

Alfred awoke to Arthur's lips gently massaging his. He sleepily returned the gesture as his eyes fluttered open. Arthur broke away from him, smiling. He was already fully dressed, decorated hat perched on his head and red jacket on.

"That is a _fantastic_ way to wake up," Alfred murmured with a smile.

"Morning, Love," Arthur said softly, "We're heading out shortly, so get ready,"

"Heading out where?" Alfred asked blearily as he sat up. Arthur snickered, shaking his head.

"Hortensia, where do you think?" he teased as he ruffled Alfred's hair (careful to avoid the cowlick). Alfred grinned, leapt out of bed, and began the search for his clothing. It had been scattered all over the cabin in his and Arthur's haste to remove them, strewn about messily.

"Oh, and Alfred?" Arthur called as he walked over to retrieve his pocket watch from the table.

"Yeah?" Alfred answered as he found his shirt on top of one of the bookshelves and pulled it on.

"About my...the...place you found," Arthur said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head. Alfred looked at him, tilting his head.

"What about it?" Alfred asked with a sly grin.

"Does this mean...I can...you know, with your hair?" he muttered quietly, looking down at his feet in embarrassment. Alfred chuckled as he walked up to him and stared into his face.

"I think so, as long as you ask permission," Alfred concluded with a smirk, "Though I think I ought to ask before I go doing _that_ to you again, shouldn't I?" he added as he pried the pirate's collar down. A large bruise had blossomed on Arthur's collarbone, a deep purple that made Alfred very pleased with himself. He had done that. He had reduced the proud, infallible Captain Arthur Kirkland to a helpless, writhing heap with naught but his tongue and fingertips.

"I-I reckon so," Arthur muttered as he blushed; Alfred smiled.

"All right, hurry up and get ready," Arthur teased as he straightened his shirt collar to hide the bruise and headed outside, "We'll be disembarking in the next ten minutes,"

"All right!" Alfred called as Arthur closed the door behind him. He grabbed his trousers from where they hung unceremoniously from the windowsill, grinning excitedly. A pirate stronghold awaited him outside, and he was eager to see it.

* * *

_Notes: I thought it was only fair that if Alfred's hair had crazy sexual effects on him, Arthur should have a weird spot on his body that produced a similar reaction._


	7. Chapter 7

_Tavern music: Hans Zimmer, "Two Hornpipes"_ **  
**

* * *

He frowned, massaging his throbbing head. Just a little more practice, that's all he needed. Then he'd be able to see just what he had managed to do. Kirkland and his men were surely vulnerable after that storm--all he needed to know was to what extent. It had taken nearly two weeks for him to recover from his last attempt, he noted with a snarl.

He stared into the mirror as his bright green eyes blinked blearily back at him.

"Nope," he sighed as he pushed himself away from the mirror and made his way to his bed. He sank onto it tiredly, resigning himself to surrender for now.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow, he'd try again.

* * *

Alfred jumped out of the longboat behind Arthur as they approached a rickety dock. He looked up--they were inside the mouth of a cave that jutted out of the eastern side of the island, hidden from view unless one knew where to look. The ship lay anchored out a ways, hidden behind an outcropping of rocks, with Sam and a few of the men on board to keep an eye on things until they returned. He followed Arthur on the slippery, moldy planks and through a large archway hewn into the stone. Alfred shuddered, brimming with excitement.

"What's that?" he asked as music caught his ears, "Fiddles?"

"Sounds like it," Arthur answered, "We're nearly in the tavern. You excited, Mat? I'll bet you are," he teased, sneaking a look over the plume of feathers in his hat to give his first mate a look.

"I'm only here to pick up more herbs," Mat said hotly, "If it weren't for you using them all with your goddamn head injury, I'd still be on the ship,"

"Oh come on, Mat, I'm sure she won't see you," George teased, "You'll be practically invisible with the tavern bein' so crowded,"

"Damn right she won't see me," Mat snapped, "I'm there, gonna get what I need, and then I'm gone,"

Alfred looked around as they approached a wooden door of a large building. The music was definitely coming from behind it, reverberating off of the stone walls loudly.

"We're here," Arthur announced as he pulled the door open and stepped inside. Alfred looked around excitedly. The room was filled from wall-to-wall with people sitting around and on top of tables, drinking and laughing raucously as a band played a lively reel to his left. A roughly constructed bar was the prominent fixture on the right-hand side, surrounded by all manner of seedy-looking men and equally seedy-looking women. Alfred gulped nervously as two men arguing loudly began haphazardly punching each other, staggering unsteadily as they moved to swing again.

"Why are we in here, again?" Alfred asked Arthur as he led them through to the other side of the tavern, "I thought we needed a mast,"

"We do," Arthur explained as he walked up to the bar, "But I'm getting a drink first,"

"Aye!" George agreed enthusiastically as he ordered himself a pint. As Alfred recalled, that was the first time he had seen that man smile.

"You want something?" Arthur offered, "I'm buying,"

"Sure, whatever you're having," Alfred answered absently as he looked around. He raised an eyebrow as a man tumbled to the floor with a woman on top of him, both of them laughing uproariously as he tore at her clothes. He blushed furiously, snapping his head back toward the bar. Arthur noted his discomfort and clapped a hand on his shoulder.

"You into that, Love?" he joked, gesturing toward the scene with his head.

"That's not funny," Alfred snapped, "The hell's wrong with these people?"

"They're pirates, most of 'em," George half-heartedly explained as he waited for his drink to appear, "Or whores, either one,"

"Or both," Arthur suggested, taking the two drinks he had ordered and handing one to Alfred. He tossed a couple of gold coins onto the bar as payment, which the bartender greedily received.

"Thanks," Alfred muttered as he took a swig. It wasn't rum, or at least he didn't think so. Whatever it was, it was good.

"Thank GOD," George declared as his pint arrived and he took a long dreg, "Aw, yeah, that's the stuff," he mumbled to himself happily.

"So what's the next step?" Alfred asked as someone slammed into him, causing him to slosh his drink all over himself. He frowned angrily as Arthur smirked at him.

"Well, we're either going to have to find a supplier for the mast, or cut down our own tree," Arthur explained as he paused to take a drink, "Odds are there's a monopoly on that here, though, and we'll need craftsmen to get the mast components made quickly,"

"How will we find them?" Alfred asked, "There's--"

He was roughly cut off by a young woman abruptly popping up directly in front of his face. He yelped and staggered backward as she crept toward him. She had long, pale blonde hair and wore a voluminous dress topped with an apron. A white ribbon adorned her hair.

"Matvey!" she cried, grabbing him by the shirt collar and roughly shaking him, "My Matvey, it's been too long!" she declared with a thick accent Alfred couldn't pinpoint.

"Huh?!" Alfred blurted as she grabbed the back of his head and forcefully tried to kiss him, "WHOA!" he cried as he managed to break away, "Hold on!" he shouted, "I'm not Matvey!" he explained as Arthur and George laughed hysterically behind him, quite enjoying the show.

"What?" the woman asked, looking him over with a frown, "But you look just like..." she paused, her frown turning into a glower which could have frozen hell over, were she so inclined. Alfred gulped--her stare was making him very uneasy. She looked him over, tossing a strand of her pale blonde hair over her shoulder in annoyance. She glared up at Arthur, who was still laughing his ass off, and then back at Alfred again.

"You're with him?" she asked, pointing at Arthur. Alfred nodded as a wicked smile crept over her pale face, "Ah, then you are on the Scarlett Tern, da?" Alfred nodded again, very much wanting her to go away. Her expression turned instantly to one of triumph as she scanned the room.

"Then he has to be around here, somewhere..." she paused, suddenly turning her gaze back onto Alfred and making him jump, "You: you know Matvey? Mat Williams?"

"Y-yeah," Alfred squeaked as Arthur burst into fresh laughing fit behind him, slapping the bar. Alfred fought the urge to smack him.

"Tell him Natalia is looking for him, da?" she demanded more than asked as she pivoted on her heel and began skulking around the perimeter of the room. Alfred turned back toward the bar, where Arthur was positively howling with laughter along with George.

"Hey!" George sputtered between guffaws, "Hey, Matvey, I think somebody's lookin' fer ya!"

"Alfred, is she gone?" Mat asked anxiously from where he was crouched beneath the bar.

"She's still in here somewhere," Alfred answered as he looked around.

"What, you lost her?!" Mat hissed, as he looked about nervously, "I gotta go," he mumbled, "If she comes again, tell her I'm dead!" he cried as he dashed out the door on the opposite side of the tavern. Arthur clutched his side as he wheezed, wiping his eyes with his sleeve.

"Run, Matvey! Run!" he cried as he and George doubled over with laughter once again. George had actually slid down the bar and onto the floor, he was laughing so hard. Alfred sighed, shaking his head and returning his attention to his drink. Half of it was spilled, no thanks to that one guy and this Natalia. He looked up as Jon and Caleb walked in, along with two other men from the ship whose names escaped him at the moment.

"The hell's goin' on?" Jon asked with a crooked smile as he watched Arthur and George lying on the bar or underneath it as they laughed, respectively.

"Natalia just showed up," Alfred explained with a shrug.

"No shit! Already?!" Jon exclaimed as Caleb burst out laughing.

"All right: pay up!" Arthur shouted between guffaws as he put his hand out. The other men begrudgingly placed coins in his outstretched palm, chuckling.

"What's that for?" Alfred asked.

"Ah, we made bets on how long it would take fer her to hunt his ass down," Caleb explained, "Cap'n said within fifteen minutes,"

"You lot like to bet, don't you?" Alfred mumbled to himself as the other men talked amongst themselves and dissolved into laughter once again. He found himself chuckling as well--Arthur's laughter was downright contagious. He had yet to see Arthur laugh this hard, actually, and it was rather endearing.

"Oh, bloody hell," Arthur gasped as he wiped his eyes with his sleeve once again, "That poor son of a bitch," he wheezed as he took a deep dreg of his drink.

"She's _terrifying_ ," Alfred commented as he looked around the room anxiously.

"Yeah, Mat really fucked up on that one!" Caleb laughed as he grabbed a drink for himself.

"How did he ever get mixed up with someone like her?" Alfred wondered aloud.

"Eh, drinkin' doesn't suit Matvey too well," George laughed--Arthur snorted and nearly choked on his drink, "Got fuckin' hammered one night 'n' wound up in bed with the devil herself,"

"She intends to marry 'im, methinks," Jon mused as he shook his head, "Won't stop lookin' fer 'im until she--!"

Jon was abruptly cut short by Natalia spinning him around and looking up into his face angrily.

"You are on his ship too, da?" she demanded, roughly shaking his shoulder, "Where is he?"

"Uh--" Jon stammered, looking over at the others for support and finding only bemused smirks.

"He's...dead," Alfred blurted. Natalia let go of Jon's shirt collar as Arthur and the others collectively burst out laughing.

"Stop it!" Arthur cried as he clutched at his side, "I can't breathe!"

Natalia glowered at Alfred fiercely as she slowly approached, her piercing eyes boring into his as she grabbed him by the collar.

"You think I'm an idiot?" she hissed dangerously.

"No," Alfred squeaked.

"You are hiding him?" she asked, "Because if you are..." she trailed off as her eyes glinted dangerously.

"He ran off!" Alfred blurted, "I don't know where he went, but he's around someplace,"

"I see..." Natalia mused as a smile slowly crept over her face, "My thanks," she said as she pat Alfred on the arm and dashed out the tavern door.

"Oh my GOD," Jon wheezed as he slapped his thigh, "'He's DEAD?' That was the best answer you could come up with?!"

"That's what Matvey told 'im to say!" George shouted as he slammed his empty tankard down on the bar, "Keep 'em comin,' barkeep!" he barked.

Alfred waited for his fellow crewmen to stop laughing long enough to speak, and a plan was developed. Him, Arthur, and Caleb would go out in search of a mast, while the others would gather up tools they'd need to make the repairs and other miscellaneous things they could use on ship.

"Ooh, it hurts," Arthur muttered as he clutched at his aching abdomen, "Oh, that was bloody hilarious--I haven't laughed that hard in _years_ ,"

"I was afraid you were gonna pass out or something," Alfred teased as he followed Arthur and Caleb outside.

"If anyone should be afraid, it's our first mate," Caleb teased as he shoved his hands into his pockets, "Where do we start?"

"Follow me," Arthur instructed as he started down a dirt path into an outcropping of trees. They walked for what seemed like forever, Alfred thought to himself as he trudged along, Arthur's red jacket leading the way. It was around noon now, Alfred wagered, and it was starting to get warm out. The winds near the shore of the island were drowned out as they continued into the forest, leaving a stagnant humidity in their absence. Arthur didn't say much, turning this way and that alertly as he led them down the path. Alfred wiped his brow with the back of his arm as Caleb groaned miserably from behind him and Arthur.

"Damn, it's hot," the Irishman declared, "Where the hell is this place?"

"Nearly there," Arthur promised as he pointed ahead of him, "Sign back there said another half mile or so,"

"Ughhh," Caleb and Alfred whined.

"Oh, quit your blubbering," Arthur snapped, wiping his sweaty bangs from his eyes. Alfred considered asking him if he wanted to remove his hat, as it was probably roasting his brain, but decided against it. It was just too damned hot to argue.

Arthur finally led them to a rickety-looking shack in a clearing. All of the surrounding trees had been chopped down, leaving only a graveyard of stumps in their wake. A surly-looking man with a red bandana tied around his greasy hair sat on the front steps of the shack. He was smoking a pipe and glared sinisterly at them as they approached.

"Afternoon, Sir," Arthur greeted as the man leered up at him, "My men and I are in the market for a mast--heard you were the man to talk to," he elaborated. The man didn't answer for a moment as he took a long dreg from the pipe he held between his right thumb and forefinger.

"Yeah? You're gonna need to pay up," the man grumbled. Alfred winced; his voice was gravelly, abrasive.

"Well, that's why we're here," Arthur answered coolly as the man stood up. He was slightly taller than Arthur, though the step he was standing on made the difference more pronounced. Arthur stared up at him defiantly, his expression stern. The man stared down at him and blew smoke in Arthur's face. Alfred bristled, but Arthur didn't flinch.

"Well then, let's talk business," the man drawled, "You got a name?"

"Do you?" Arthur asked with a frown. The other man seemed pleased by this, his face splitting into a grin as he chuckled lowly.

"Aye, I do," the man said as he took another puff on the pipe in his hands and blew the smoke up into the air above him. Alfred fought the urge to sneeze as it wafted in his direction--the stuff smelled absolutely horrible.

"Where's the Cap'n of your ship?" the man asked as he looked the three of them over.

"You're looking at him," Arthur explained matter-of-factly as he extended his hand, "The name's Kirkland,"

The other man looked down at his hand, then up at his face, then back down at Arthur's hand once again before slowly extending his arm and shaking Arthur's hand. Alfred noted absently how glad he was that Arthur was wearing gloves.

"Barnes," the man said gruffly as he let go of Arthur's hand, "What kind of ship ya sailin,' Kirkland?"

"Galleon," Arthur answered, "Topgallant and topmast for the main mast are what I'm lookin' for,"

"Ah, you blew the main bloody mast, eh?" Barnes sighed as he puffed on his pipe thoughtfully, "Yer the third ship this month...bloody storm's makin' me a killin,'" he added snidely as he looked over at Alfred and Caleb, "Gonna need one hellofa tree for one o' them,"

"Well, it's not the entire mast that needs repair--just the top two thirds," Arthur pointed out, "Can you do it?" Arthur asked, raising an eyebrow at him. Barnes looked at Arthur as if he had just slapped him.

"Can I do it?" he blurted incredulously, "'Course I can! But it'll cost ya, _Cap'n_ Kirkland," he hissed, glaring down at Arthur.

"How much are we talking?" Arthur asked.

"How much ya got?" Barnes sneered. Arthur chuckled, resting one foot on the step Barnes stood upon as he produced a pouch from his belt. Barnes eyed it hungrily as Arthur gently shook the bag; whatever was within clinked.

"We'll talk about that shortly," Arthur said with a grin as he clutched the pouch securely on his knee so it was within Barnes's sight, "But let's discuss a few terms first,"

"What terms?" Barnes spat, "I'm the one makin' the terms, here!"

"And _I'm_ the paying customer," Arthur pointed out with a cocky grin, "And I am very interested in my investment,"

Barnes didn't look pleased by this statement, crossing his arms over his chest and scowling.

"Besides, if we come to an agreement, you'll make a handsome profit and I'll be on my merry way," Arthur pointed out as the contents of the pouch on his knee tinkled together softly. Barnes looked down at it before looking back up at Arthur.

"What terms?" he demanded.

"My men will be allowed to supervise the entire operation, and assist in the work as needed," Arthur stated boldly. Alfred felt his eyebrows shoot up into his hairline--he was telling the man he was going to have someone else do his work for him? Caleb seemed just as surprised, as he tsked softly.

"Now see here--" Barnes growled, but Arthur cut him off.

"And the reason I say that, Mr. Barnes, is that I'd like to get my ship in proper sailing condition as soon as possible. I have some fine carpenters on my crew that would be more than willing to assist you," Arthur added as he gestured toward Alfred and Caleb. Barnes glared at them angrily.

"I don't need their help," Barnes snapped.

"Ah, I thought you might say that," Arthur said, "See, I'd like this entire project finished in no less than five days,"

Barnes blanched, looking at Arthur as if he were a madman.

"You're bloody insane," he stated, "It'll take me 'n' my boys that long just to cut the damn trees down 'n' taper 'em!"

"Which is why I'll gladly send my men in to give you and your boys a hand 'round the clock," Arthur said smoothly, "And," he added as he opened the pouch and took a gold coin out, "I will be sure to make it worth your while,"

Barnes stared at the coin, entranced, setting his pipe onto the steps below and reaching out to grab it. Arthur handed it to him, grinning smugly.

"I'm going to give you fifty of these for now," he stated, shaking the pouch to get Barnes's attention again, "Overall, their value is estimated at approximately one hundred British pounds," he continued smoothly. Alfred felt his jaw drop open, then quickly shut it. _One hundred pounds?_

"Lemme see it," Barnes said, licking his lips and holding out his hands. Arthur dumped the remainder of the coins into his waiting hands, some of them spilling over onto the steps below with metallic clinks.

"They're all there, I assure you," Arthur said as Barnes hurriedly began counting them, "And they're all yours, to start,"

"To start?" Barnes repeated excitedly.

"Yes," Arthur explained as he took his foot from the step, "I am willing to pay you another fifty of these coins when the work is completed and the mast has securely been attached to my ship, _if_ it's done in five days," he stressed.

"And if it ain't?" Barnes asked worriedly. Arthur grinned slyly at him, tilting his head.

"Well, then the number of coins goes down for each day over five that it takes," Arthur answered. Barnes looked like he was about to get sick.

"By how much?" Barnes asked, panicked.

"By twenty-five coins per day. Finish in five, and all one hundred coins are yours--two hundred pounds' worth," Arthur explained thoroughly, "But, of course, this is under the assumption that you allow my men to work alongside you and your boys on the project," he added.

Barnes stared at him, mouth-agape, as he slowly turned back to the coins glinting in his hands.

"Well, Mr. Barnes?" Arthur asked, "Do we have a deal?"

"Yeah, Mr. Kirkland," Barnes said as he carefully set the coins on the steps and shook Arthur's hand, "I believe we do,"

"Splendid," Arthur praised as he took a folded piece of parchment out from underneath his left glove, "I've taken the liberty of writing down the measurements for you," he explained as Barnes took the paper with an enthusiastic nod of his head.

"Well then, I'll send for my gents immediately," Arthur said happily as he turned to walk away, "And do make sure not to mention this to anyone else...I wouldn't want to have to retract my offer,"

"N-no, Mr. Kirkland! I won't tell a soul--just my boys, that's all," Barnes reassured him enthusiastically.

"Excellent," Arthur said, "Oh, and...Mr. Barnes," he cautioned as he turned back toward him and opened up his pocket watch, "The clock starts now," he added as he snapped the watch closed. Barnes leapt to his feet as if he'd been shot, hastily grabbing the coins and heading into his shack. Arthur turned back toward Caleb and Alfred, grinning triumphantly.

"Are you out of yer mind, Cap'n?" Caleb asked after the three of them were out of earshot, "Five days? That's gonna be one hell of a tight deadline, and that's if we work day 'n' night 'round the clock on that mast!"

"I know that," Arthur responded cheerily, "Which is why we're going to work in shifts," he explained, "We've got enough men where we can get this thing built quickly--plus, ol' Barnes has a decent incentive to work fast," he added as he raised an eyebrow at Caleb and Alfred.

"But that gold...how did you...?" Alfred stammered, stunned. Arthur laughed, shaking his head as they walked.

"Let's just say I've been saving up my portion of our spoils for a rainy day," Arthur said cryptically as he sped up, "Come on, then--we've some volunteers to round up,"

* * *

_The internet tells me that masts were divided into three parts: mainmast (bottom), topmast (middle), and topgallant mast (very top). Arthur and Co. were lucky enough that the entire thing didn't need to be replaced, as I'm fairly certain that would have been impossible without a legit shipyard, but I'm not sure._


	8. Chapter 8

The crew of the Scarlett Tern immediately went to work at making her a new mast. Alfred was on the first shift, and had helped whittle the wooden spires and strip them of bark. By the time the sun went down and his shift was up, roughly half of what were once two mighty trees were bare, one for the topmast and the second for the topgallant mast. He returned to the Tern, arms aching tiredly as he rowed his way up to the ship along with Caleb and Jon.

"Aw, fuuuck," Jon groaned tiredly, "These next four days are gonna be hell,"

"Yeah, but then we can finally leave and get on to that treasure, though," Caleb pointed out excitedly, "You shoulda seen the look on that bastard's face when the Cap'n gave 'im those coins--I thought he was gonna have a bloody heart attack,"

"You think he can pull it off, then? Five days?" Jon asked uncertainly as he took his turn rowing. Alfred gratefully leaned back in the longboat, rubbing his arms.

"If we keep working at this rate, I think it might happen," Caleb reasoned, "What do you think, Alfred?"

"Well, it's possible," Alfred reasoned, "Barnes seemed pretty keen on making as large a profit as he could,"

"Aye, that's true," Caleb agreed as they reached the ship and tied the longboat to the hull, "And with all of us workin,' it shouldn't be that hard to get this ship up 'n' runnin' again," he added cheerily as they began climbing the ladder let down by Sam so they could climb up. Alfred clambered onto the deck, nodding at Sam as he stepped aside to let the other two men up.

"How's it looking?" Sam asked.

"Well, the trees're halfway stripped, and we started whittling the tops down," Alfred answered, "It's...coming along,"

"Good," Sam sighed, "Make sure you lot get some rest: this is gonna be a long four days,"

"Told ya," Jon said under his breath.

"All right, next shift: you're up!" Mat called from farther down the dock as the rest of the guys from the first shift climbed aboard, "Remember that the Tern's moving, so keep sharp," he added pointedly.

The next group of men climbed over the side of the ship and into the longboats, rowing toward shore. They had taken another route so as not to attract more attention than was necessary, rowing around the perimeter of the island and docking in a sandy alcove. A short walk brought them right to the shipyard where the mast's construction was to take place.

"Why is the ship moving?" Alfred asked Sam.

"As a precaution," Sam explained, "If word gets out about the Captain's more than generous offer to this Barnes fellow, the other gents might figure we're loaded 'n' try to storm the ship. Movin' her around's a good way to make sure that doesn't happen,"

"Ah, that makes sense," Alfred said as he cut himself off with a yawn. Sam chuckled, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

"Call it a day, lad," he advised.

"Yeah, I will," Alfred answered as he made his way to the galley, grabbed some food, and headed back to Arthur's cabin. He opened the door, greeting Arthur as he looked up from his maps at him.

"How's my mast looking?" Arthur asked as he placed his quill back into the ink bottle beside him, "They got the trees cut down, at least?"

"Oh yeah, the trees're down," Alfred answered as he plunked into one of the wooden chairs with a sigh, "Halfway stripped of bark and partially tapered at the tops,"

"Good, good," Arthur muttered to himself as he nodded, "The crew seem to be doing all right?"

"I think so, yeah," Alfred answered with a smile, "They're all just kind of surprised at the deadline you set," he added. Arthur snorted.

"Well, the sooner the Tern's seaworthy again, the sooner the lot of 'em'll get to their treasure," he scoffed, though he was smiling, "A necessary sacrifice for right now--they can sleep it off once we're in open water,"

Alfred nodded as he finished his meal and yawned.

"I'm exhausted," he announced as he rose from his seat, "I'm going to sleep,"

"All right," Arthur said as he returned to his charting, "Good-night, Love,"

"Good-night," Alfred answered as he walked over and awkwardly kissed him on the top of his head. Arthur grabbed his wrist as he turned to walk over to bed, drawing him in for a chaste kiss on the lips instead. Alfred grinned, looking up at the ceiling shyly.

"Sleep well," Arthur said as he let go of Alfred's wrist, mirroring Alfred's grin.

"Oh, I don't think I'll need any rocking tonight," Alfred yawned as he peeled off his boots and settled into bed. The next thing he knew, it was morning. Arthur had woken him out of a dead sleep so he could report onto the deck for his second day of work, wishing him luck and advising him not to overdo it.

"Mornin,' gents," Mat greeted as he tossed lumps of bread at each of them, "Off you go,"

"Right," Alfred mumbled as he stuffed his bread into his pocket and got into the longboat with Jon and Caleb.

"Morning," he said as he settled into the vessel.

"Mornin,'" the two of them mumbled as Caleb took the oars and started his turn at rowing.

* * *

Arthur looked up as someone rapped on his cabin door.

"Come in," he called, and the door swung open. Mat stepped in, nodding politely.

"Morning, Captain," he said as he shut the door behind him.

"Morning," Arthur answered, putting his quill back into the ink bottle next to him, "How are things looking?"

"Crazy," Mat answered as he sat in what was usually Alfred's chair and leaned on the table, "This is going to wipe everybody out, you know,"

"Yeah, well, that's why we have you to help patch 'em up," Arthur teased. His first mate did not appear amused, throwing him a look.

"Arthur, five days? Are you mad?" he asked as Arthur rolled his eyes at him.

"No, Mat, I'm not mad," he answered, "I'm being practical,"

"How is this being practical?" Mat blurted, "Arthur, you're asking for something to be finished in less than a week that would normally take three,"

"With five people or so," Arthur pointed out.

"All right, but even so--this is a lot to ask of the crew," Mat said.

"I know," Arthur sighed, resting his elbows on the table, "But we can't afford to waste any more time,"

Mat perked up at that statement, sitting straight in his seat attentively.

"What do you mean?" he asked as Arthur turned the map around that he had been writing on when he had walked in. Mat pushed his glasses up, studying the map quietly for a few moments. Arthur watched his expression, puzzled at first, and then deeply concerned.

"Oh, shit," he breathed, looking up at Arthur with wide violet eyes, "You sure this is right?"

"Definitely," Arthur answered, pointing at the dashed lines he had drawn, "That Spic bastard is coming at us--fast. We've gotta get out of here as soon as possible. Five days is the longest time we can spare here,"

"How do you know he's coming this way, though?" Mat asked as he pointed to the map.

"Because we have the gunpowder, remember?" Arthur answered lowly, "He's not gonna overlook that one too easily. That and the fact that we wrecked his little smugglers' village. He knows we were caught in that storm, and is probably counting on us being forced to stop at Hortensia,"

"Shit," Mat declared, shaking his head, "And you're basing his route here on...?"

"Several factors," Arthur said as he leaned forward to point at various symbols on the map, "His last known trajectory, the prevailing winds now, the effect of that damned storm..."

"So this is assuming he didn't take any damage during the storm, then, right?" Mat asked.

"Can't take any chances," Arthur answered with a nod.

"Did you show this to Sam?" Mat asked.

"Not yet," Arthur said as he rose from his seat, "That's what I was going to do after the ink dried this morning," he added. Mat watched him worriedly, frowning.

"I think this is something the crew should be privy to," Arthur decided.

"You sure?" Mat asked after a moment's pause, "You don't want them to panic," he pointed out.

"True, but I also don't want them killing me because they don't understand the reason for the 'mad' rush on the mast," Arthur added with a sly grin.

"That's not funny," Mat said flatly.

"Hey, I'm just being realistic," Arthur said as he threw his hands up, "I think a meeting is in order. After this first shift comes back, rally everyone up and I'll talk to 'em,"

"All right, if you think that's best," Mat sighed as he stood up, "Here's hoping you're right," he added pointedly. Arthur grinned bitterly, nodding as Mat excused himself and closed the cabin door behind him.

* * *

"No, not THAT way," the man grumbled as Alfred whittled away at what would soon be the Tern's new topmast. The topgallant mast was being worked on by Barnes, off a ways.

"What?" Alfred demanded as one of Barnes' sons grabbed the saw from him and began hacking away at the wood.

"You've gotta take out chunks _with_ the grain, or we'll have to start over," he scolded.

"I _am_ taking out chunks with the grain," Alfred retorted.

"No you ain't," the man snapped, "See? Lookit--oh," he stumbled, seeing that Alfred had been doing the right thing all along.

"Can I have my saw back?" Alfred asked dryly.

"Oh, uh...sure," the man said absently as he handed the tool back to him.

"Bloody idiot," Alfred muttered under his breath as he continued his task. The tree had been completely stripped of bark now, and the shape of the mast was starting to fall into place. Half of the crew from this shift had returned to the Tern to start removal of the parts of the mast which were damaged, with Ward at the head of the project to make sure the lower mast remained undamaged. Now the first shift was reduced to Caleb, himself, Tom, George, Gil, Barnes, and two out of four of his sons. Alfred was put to the task of finishing the tapering of the topmast, while his shipmates were busy sanding down the remainder of it.

"Fuckin' hot out here," Gil grumbled as he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, "Vould it've killed zem to build zis in ze _shade_?" he complained with a thick Prussian accent.

"Oh, quit yer bitchin,'" Tom snapped, "We're all hot,"

"And zis 'round ze clock bullshit!" Gil snapped as he ran his fingers through his sweaty silver hair, "Who's ze Cap'n zhink he is?"

"Watch it, Gil," George growled.

"Oh come on, I can't be zhe only one zhinkin' it," Gil insisted as he returned to his task, running his scraper along his section of the tree angrily, "Zis is ridiculous--zhere's no reason for us to have to slave avay day und night for somezhin' zat could easily be finished by zhe people who know vat zhe fuck zhey're doin,'"

"We _do_ know what the fuck we're doin,'" Tom insisted, "We're building a bloody mast,"

"In five fuckin' days?" Gil blurted, turning to glare at him, "Tom, come on: even you've gotta admit zis is mad,"

"I'm sure there's a reason for it," George grumbled as he rolled his aching shoulders, "Maybe we aren't the only ones interested in that treasure we're headin' fer,"

"Eh, maybe," Gil agreed begrudgingly as he glared down the mast at Alfred, "Ey, Alfred," he called, " _You_ oughtta know vhat he's up to--vhat's ze Cap'n told you about all zis scheisse?"

"He hasn't said anything, really," Alfred answered, refusing to meet the man's crimson gaze, "Just says he knows how much work this is for everybody,"

"JA, easy for HIM to say!" Gil shouted indignantly as he slammed his file onto the ground, "He's not fuckin' doing any of zis!"

"He's the bloody Captain, Gil," Tom warned, "Now get back to work,"

"Bloody Captain, my ass," Gil muttered as he hesitantly retrieved his file and continued on his task. Time marched on, with Alfred's arms growing heavier with each passing minute, until it was finally time for a break.

"Come to daddy," George breathed as he grabbed a tankard of watered-down rum and downed half of it in one swig. Alfred gratefully drank from his own tankard, sighing as the lukewarm fluid soothed his parched throat. It wasn't cold, by any means, but it was better than nothing.

He looked up as Caleb and Tom approached, nodding at them.

"How you holdin' up?" Tom asked.

"I'm all right," Alfred lied; actually, his arms felt like they were about to fall off, but he wasn't about to tell them that, "You?"

"Same," Tom sighed, pausing as he took a drink, "Just lookin' forward to this bein' over,"

Alfred nodded as he took another drink, looking over at the mast quietly. It was actually much farther along than he'd anticipated it would be--with at least eight men working on it at all hours, the project was moving along at a good pace.

"You two're carpenters--whaddaya think on this?" Caleb asked. Alfred turned back toward him and Tom, who was shrugging his shoulders.

"Well, everything's going to slow down on this end after the sanding is finished, since we need to treat the wood overnight," Tom reasoned with a thoughtful frown, "And I'm not sure how fast they'll be able to remove the old one from the Tern,"

"Ward and the rest of us already rebuilt the booms, though," Alfred pointed out.

"True, but they still need to be installed, and we'll need all hands on deck to get these masts in place," Tom added as he shook his head, "It's gonna be close,"

Alfred sighed as he returned to the topmast, checking his measurements. He grinned; the dimensions were precisely what Arthur had written on his note. He set the saw down and retrieved a scraper. He started sanding the freshly-tapered wood, trying to ignore the fact that sweat was running into his eyes.

"Ow," he muttered as he wiped his eyes with his sleeve.

"How's zhe other one coming?" Gil demanded as he looked over at Barnes and his sons working on the topgallant mast, only they weren't working. They were on break, drinking and talking quietly amongst themselves.

"Vat zhe hell?" Gil sputtered, "Zhey're not even vorking on it!"

"They just went on break, Gil, calm the fuck down," George said flatly, "Just focus on gettin' your stuff done,"

Gil harrumphed loudly, but didn't protest further. The rest of the afternoon dragged on for what felt like an eternity, and Alfred's arms and back throbbed horribly. At long last, the sun went down and his shift ended.

"Finally," Caleb sighed as he followed Alfred and the others to the shipyard, where they all dumped buckets of seawater over their heads. Not the best-smelling option, but it did cool them down. Alfred wiped his soggy bangs from his eyes and climbed into the longboat with Caleb and Tom.

"Oh, come on," Caleb whined, "My arms're gonna fall off,"

"I'll go first," Tom offered as he grabbed the oars and began rowing. He winced, setting his jaw stubbornly.

"Do you want to switch with me?" Alfred offered as he noted his discomfort.

"Nah," Tom insisted as he kept on rowing, albeit slowly, "I've got it--I'll switch with ya when we normally would,"

Alfred nodded, looking out to sea. The Tern had anchored off of another outcropping of rocks, closer to where they had been working. Alfred guessed Arthur had a hand in making that decision, and smiled. He was thoughtful of his crew, whether he wanted to admit it or not. The ship herself was larger than he'd imagined from the outside, with a shining lacquered hull, towering masts (save for the broken one), and the inscription "Scarlett Tern" engraved in golden scrawl near the bow. A fiery red bird was carved into the front of the vessel, its elegant crimson wings spreading onto the hull and the bowsprit serving as the creature's long beak.

"All right, you're up," Tom said suddenly as he scooted back so Alfred could reach the oars.

"Great," Alfred said glumly as he began rowing, his shoulders and back screaming in protest. He ignored it as best he could, focusing instead on the bench in front of him.

"Nearly there," Tom coached kindly as he leaned back in the boat and rubbed his arms, "Never thought being an apprentice would lead ya to this kind of work, didja?" he teased.

"Definitely not," Alfred laughed, "Then again, I never imagined I'd be working on a pirate ship, either,"

"Same here," Tom sighed, "I just needed somewhere to go once I lost my job..." he trailed off sadly, "And somehow I ended up here,"

"Hey, you're a carpenter, though," Caleb pointed out, "Who wouldn't want to hire you?"

Tom frowned at him, raising an eyebrow.

"Wasn't anyone who would hire me, that was all," Tom said with an air of finality, looking out at the ocean. Alfred assumed the conversation was over and opted to row in silence, but Caleb had other plans.

"...any reason why?" Caleb pried, and Alfred fought to resist the urge to smack him with one of the oars. Tom didn't answer for a while, looking out at the sea quietly.

"They thought I murdered 'em," he answered hollowly after a pause, "My sister 'n' her little boy...found 'em after I got home from fishing, lying in a pool of their own blood..." he reminisced, staring out at the sea as if in a trance. Alfred looked up at Caleb worriedly, who returned the gesture and bit his lip.

"Hey, Tom, uh..listen, I shouldn't have even brought it up--" Caleb said.

"I mean, how could they think I could've done such a thing? Killin' a woman and her child--my sister 'n' my nephew?" Tom asked suddenly, shaking his head, "The only thing I could do was run,"

Awkward silence followed as Alfred rowed--poorly. Tom stared out into the setting sun with an expression Alfred couldn't quite read, and didn't care to.

"Oi, Alfred, it's my turn, isn't it?" Caleb blurted suddenly as he reached for the oars.

"Sure," Alfred said, eager to hand the paddles over so he could rest his aching arms. Caleb began rowing, then, directing them toward where the ship lay in wait.

"Even after I ran outta there, every village I went to somehow knew about what happened--it was like I was cursed or something," Tom muttered, turning his gaze back toward Alfred, "You ever felt like that?" he asked quietly.

"Cursed?" Alfred repeated.

"Yeah," Tom responded, his brown eyes reflecting the setting sun.

"I...sometimes," Alfred answered glumly, "I think...we all do, sometimes,"

Tom thought this over for a moment before nodding and shifting in his seat on the bench of the longboat.

"I suppose that's true," he reasoned as he shook his head, "Eh, sorry 'bout that," he apologized, as Caleb and Alfred insisted that there was no need. Alfred gratefully grasped the ladder on the Tern, hauling himself up it and leaning heavily against the rail as he heaved himself over the side and onto the deck. To his surprise, Arthur was standing in front of him, holding tightly onto a rope attached to the splintered remains of the topmast.

"Which way, Ward?" he called as he tightened his grip on the rope and pulled.

"Port, Cap'n!" Ward answered from the other side of the deck as Arthur moved to the left and pulled. The mast groaned in protest as it shifted to the left, its splintered top cracking as it moved.

"All right, Smitty, Jon, Sam--pull on that rope as hard as you can!" Ward shouted, "Cap'n, don't let go 'a' that rope! If it ain't taut, this won't work!" he advised.

"Aye, it's taut!" Arthur shouted as the other men pulled on another rope connected to some kind of pulley mechanism hooked through the adjacent masts with a collective grunt.

"Heave!" Ward shouted, followed by an determined "HO!" from the rest of the group.

"What's...going on?" Caleb stammered as his eyes caught sight of Arthur's bright red jacket amongst the workers.

"They're taking off the damaged topmast," Tom deduced, "And it looks like the Captain's helping out as well," he added with a grin. Alfred couldn't stop the smile from creeping across his own face at that statement, his heart swelling with pride. A captain who worked right alongside his crew, pride and humility all rolled into one perfectly flawed man. He was glad the sun was going down so it could hide the heat rising in his face.

"HEAVE!" they all shouted as Arthur leaned back on the rope, the hem of his coat touching the planks, "HO!" Alfred looked up as the topmast creaked and tilted slightly upward on the right-hand side.

"A little more!" Ward instructed, "Just a little more and it'll give!"

"HEAVE!" they shouted as the mast moved, groaning in protest, "HO!"

Alfred joined the others in cheering as the topmast finally gave, lurching upward and disconnecting from the lower mast. Arthur stumbled and nearly fell onto the deck, catching himself at the last moment and quickly standing straight and holding onto the rope.

"Nice work, gents!" Ward praised, "Now, Cap'n, if you could move the boom..." he said awkwardly.

"On it!" Arthur responded as he bounded over to the netting and climbed up to the boom of the adjacent foremast. He grabbed a rope and pulled, moving the shattered remains of the topmast so it hovered over the deck.

"Okay, boys, let it down--SLOW, now!" Ward instructed as he shuffled beneath the mast and grabbed hold of the pulley rope, guiding the splintered topmast down to the deck.

Alfred looked up at Arthur as he clung to the netting, watching the topmast land on the deck before dismounting gracefully onto the planks below. He strode over to Ward as if to receive further instruction.

"Huh," Gil commented from Alfred's left, shaking his head.

"Guess you were too swift to judge 'im, eh, Gil?" Tom asked with a cockeyed smile. Gil bristled, glaring at him in annoyance.

"Ja, vell, he still isn't helping vith zhe new mast, sweatin' avay in zat hot sun all day," he said defensively. Tom rolled his eyes at him and looked like he was going to say something else, but a whistle sounded and stopped him short. Mat was motioning for everyone to fall in for a meeting of some kind, Alfred guessed. He joined the others in moving toward him, looking up as Arthur stepped behind Mat.

"Thanks, Mat," Arthur said as his first mate nodded and joined the crowd. Arthur looked them over, green eyes glinting in the dim light, "All right, gents, we're movin' along at breakneck speed here, and you lot have all done well,"

He paused, looking over the crowd to survey their response. Alfred didn't risk turning around, but he guessed it was less than enthusiastic. Arthur didn't let that phase him, however, as he confidently continued.

"I suppose you're all wondering why the rush," he said, earning a mumbled collective reply from the crew in-return, "Truth is, gents, five days is the longest we can spend at this here port to avoid some unwanted company,"

He paused again, waiting for the men to stop talking amongst themselves nervously before continuing.

"We should expect a visit from our friend Captain Fernández Carriedo within the next few days, and the Tern needs to be in runnin' shape for when he shows up," Arthur explained, pausing a third time for the deck to stop erupting with worried murmurs.

"How do you know he's comin' at us?" Jon asked anxiously, "Didn't the storm get 'im, too?"

The crowd muttered its agreement. Arthur turned toward Jon and nodded his head at him in acknowledgement.

"It's possible, but he might've been able to avoid damage by ducking into a harbor or something," Arthur said, "And he knows we weren't so lucky--no doubt he's been tracking us ever since we took back what he stole," he added pointedly. The crew muttered among themselves, obviously nervous.

"And we have five days 'til he gets here?" a Scotsman Alfred thought was named Paul or something asked.

"Six," Arthur corrected, "but we need to be out of here by then, unless we're willing to fight him in a harbor with a ship that can't be sailed,"

"So vhat? I've been vantin' to punch zat guy for years!" Gil declared, "Vhat's ze harm in takin' 'im on?"

Alfred looked around as several of the men enthusiastically voiced their agreement. A few of them raised their fists. He stole a look at Mat, who looked grave. His eyes were fixed on Arthur, arms folded across his chest.

"Settle down," Arthur said as he raised his hands in front of him. Alfred grinned at the fact that he didn't need to raise his voice to get the others to listen, "Sure, I'd like to pop 'im in the face as much as the rest of you, but we can deal an even greater blow by finding that treasure before he does," he pointed out. The men listened attentively, intrigued.

"Und...if he catches up to us before zhen?" Gil inquired as he raised an eyebrow. Arthur's face split into a positively evil grin then, his teeth glinting in the light of the lantern beside him.

"Then we blow him to smithereens with that goddamn gunpowder he stole," Arthur declared, earning an enthusiastic cheer from the crew, "But until that happens, I say we keep moving one step ahead of him and keep him from getting his mitts on any of _our_ gold," he continued as the cheering died down.

"We'll see to it that he doesn't have a pot to piss in!" Smitty laughed as a greedy grin crept across his face. The crew seemed all right with this proposed plan, as the anxious muttering had died down and been replaced with excited chatter.

"So--we will need to continue work on fixing the mast as soon as possible to make that happen," Arthur continued, nodding toward Ward and the others who had taken off the old mast, "Thanks to Mr. Ward, here, we've managed to get the broken parts of the mast off to make way for the new one,"

"My pleasure, Cap'n," Ward said with a respectful nod.

"Now all that remains is to complete the new mast and get it secured onto the Tern," Arthur continued, "What's the status on our new mast?" he asked to nobody in particular, looking over the crowd intently.

"Alfred, answer him," Tom whispered as he poked him in the back.

"Uh, it's coming along nicely, Captain," Alfred answered awkwardly as Arthur's green eyes locked onto his blue ones--he fought not to blush, "Topmast and topgallant mast are both stripped and tapered. Now we need to file them down and treat them,"

"And how long will that take?" Arthur pried.

"It takes a day for the varnish to set," Alfred admitted with a frown, "Once we get that on, I'm afraid we'll have to wait until the next day to move it and set it onto the ship,"

Arthur didn't look to happy with that statement, frowning at him and turning toward Ward.

"Any way to speed that up?" he asked.

"'fraid not, Cap'n," Ward admitted with a shrug. Arthur nodded and turned back toward Alfred.

"And when do you anticipate that the filing will be completed?" Arthur asked him. Alfred hesitated, thinking for a moment before responding.

"I'd say if we worked with two shifts like we have been, it should be done by tomorrow night, Captain. Then we can put the varnish on the next day," he answered. Arthur nodded slowly, looking out at the rest of the crew.

"All right, then, that leaves us one day to get the mast in place and sails up," Arthur reasoned, "Think we can make that happen?"

He smiled as a resounding "Aye, Captain!" came from the crowd.

"Thanks, gents," Arthur said with a nod, "Any questions?"

"Yeah, uh...Cap'n," George asked hesitantly, "What're we to do on that one day while we're waitin' on the varnish to dry?"

Arthur paused, looking over the anxious faces of his crewmen.

"Well...are the booms completed? Sails ready to go as soon as that mast is in place? Rigging?" he asked, turning to Mat.

"Aye, Captain, they are," Mat answered with a nod. Arthur nodded back and shrugged, a smile creeping onto his face.

"Well, then, I suppose you fellows have earned a day of shore leave," he announced as the crew burst into an excited cheer, "SO LONG as you come back for your shift at dawn the next morning--no passing out drunk in some whore's bed and sleeping in 'til noon," he added pointedly as the men laughed.

"Aye, Cap'n!" several of them said as Arthur waved to dismiss them.

"Second shift, you're up!" Mat announced as he walked toward the side of the ship where the longboats were waiting. Alfred walked over to Arthur, looking up at him with a grin.

"How'd it go today?" Arthur asked kindly, "Was bloody hot out, wasn't it?" he whistled as he clapped a hand on Alfred's shoulder.

"Yeah, it was," Alfred agreed, "I'm going to go fetch dinner--you want anything?"

"I'll go with you," Arthur suggested, "I'm starving, myself,"

The two of them headed to the galley, picked up a few things, and made their way back to Arthur's cabin. Alfred sank into his seat tiredly and eagerly tore into his food.

"Worked up an appetite, eh, Love?" Arthur asked as he ate across the table from him.

"You bet," Alfred answered around a mouthful of bread, "How long were you working with Ward and the others today?" he asked.

"Mm...pretty much since you left," Arthur shrugged as he bit into his apple, "Why?"

"Nothing," Alfred dismissed as he took a drink of his rum.

"Nothing?" Arthur pressed, raising an eyebrow at him. Alfred put his cup down and tilted his head at him.

"It's just, the crew was surprised to see you working like one of the guys is all," Alfred admitted as he grabbed a slice of what he hoped was ham and bit into it. He grinned to himself as it turned out to be just that, and it was delicious.

Arthur was silent for a moment, looking over at him as he crunched on his apple. Alfred knew that look--he was deep in thought, contemplating.

"What?" Alfred asked finally.

"They probably thought it was strange, huh?" Arthur asked with a frown.

"Maybe, but it went over really well," Alfred encouraged as he finished his ham and moved onto his apple, "Even Gil was impressed,"

Arthur chuckled as he took another bite of the apple, chewing on it and looking up at the ceiling thoughtfully.

"And...what did _you_ think about it?" Arthur asked uncertainly. Alfred looked up at him, taking a drink before responding. Arthur had returned his focus onto him, green eyes patiently awaiting an answer.

"I thought it was great," Alfred said, looking back down at the table shyly, "I think a true leader is one who works alongside the people he governs, anyway," he added quietly, embarrassed. Arthur chuckled to himself as he finished off the apple and set the core down on the tabletop.

"Say, Arthur..." Alfred asked hesitantly as he tore a chunk off of the apple.

"Yes?" Arthur asked patiently.

"This...Captain who's after us," Alfred said as he looked back up at Arthur, whose expression had turned very stern.

"Who is he?" Arthur finished for him; Alfred nodded. The captain sighed, leaning his chair on its back legs and looking up at the ceiling again.

"Antonio Fernández Carriedo," Arthur exhaled as if reciting the name from a book, "Bloody Spaniard, always getting in my way, stealing my cargo...pain in the ass, he is," he growled.

"So he stole gunpowder from you? That's what you had to get back from the village I was...at?" Alfred stumbled, not quite sure what to call the situation.

"Yeah," Arthur answered, "That was one of several times that bastard's stolen from me, so I stole it right back," he added matter-of-factly as he stared at the ceiling and took a bite of bread.

"How do you know when he'll get here, though?" Alfred wondered aloud. Arthur tilted his head to look at him, trinkets on his hat tinkling quietly.

"I've charted out where he could've gone," he answered, "If his ship got dismasted like mine, it'll take him longer, but I'm not going to take that chance. He is NOT getting to that treasure before us, I swear it,"

"He's looking for the same place?" Alfred deduced as he cleaned his plate.

"Definitely," Arthur sighed, removing his gloves and rubbing his eyes tiredly, "And we are going to beat him to it, broken mast be damned," he vowed with fire in those emerald eyes. Alfred listened to him talk more about this Spanish pirate, how he seemed to be at every turn Arthur made, how the entire crew of the Tern absolutely despised the "Spic bastard" and were dedicated to his defeat.

"Is he one who...sells people?" Alfred asked hesitantly with a jolt in his stomach, "Like the ones I was with? You said he traded with them..."

Arthur was silent for a moment before answering, frowning at Alfred sadly.

"I don't know if he has himself, but he's partners with ones that do," he said quietly, "Another reason I can't stand him," he added hotly as he downed the last of his rum and set the cup on the table with a soft clank. "I'm goin' to bed," he announced tiredly, stretching and rising from his seat.

"Me too--ow!" Alfred hissed as he rose from his seat and his back throbbed in protest.

"What's wrong?" Arthur asked worriedly as he walked to his side.

"Nothing, my back's just sore," Alfred said dismissively, "I'm just gonna lie down,"

"All right, Love," Arthur said as Alfred shuffled over to bed and attempted to remove his shirt. Thing was, his arms didn't seem to want to lift above his chest.

"Need a hand?" Arthur offered, but already had his hands on the hem of Alfred's shirt. He peeled the damp fabric over Alfred's head, who hissed in pain as his arms were forced above his shoulders.

"Thanks," he muttered as he lay down on his stomach. He sighed as he felt himself sinking into the mattress, his back throbbing in-time with his heart. He jumped as he suddenly felt hands on his back, gently rubbing at the knots in his shoulders, along his spine...

"What're you doing?" he asked as he turned toward where Arthur sat next to him.

"Rubbing your back," Arthur answered matter-of-factly, "Does it help? I'll stop if it doesn't,"

"No, it's nice," Alfred admitted as he sank back into bed, "Ooh, that's the spot," he murmured as Arthur's fingertips found a knotted ball of muscle between his shoulder blades.

"There?" Arthur asked, prodding with his fingers.

"Yeah," Alfred sighed as he began to relax, "Oh, that's good..."

Arthur continued to massage his achy muscles, loosening them with deft movements of his fingertips and palms. Alfred sighed happily as the other man began gently massaging his shoulders, then his arms.

"Oh, you are _good_ at this," Alfred mumbled into his pillow.

"Glad its helping," Arthur laughed as he gently massaged Alfred's upper arms, then moved back to his shoulders and on either side of his neck.

"Ah..." Alfred breathed, "A little left--there," he instructed as Arthur adjusted his hands.

"How's that?" Arthur asked.

"Perfect," Alfred mumbled as he closed his eyes.

"Alfred?" Arthur called from somewhere.

"Hmm?" he answered drowsily.

"You falling asleep on me?" Arthur teased.

"Mm-hmm..." Alfred murmured as he drifted off, Arthur's skilled fingertips gently massaging either side of his neck. He thought he heard the other man chuckle to himself before he sank into sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

The next morning went much like the days prior, starting out at the crack of dawn with Jon and Caleb in the longboat and ending with the same. They had finished most of the filing today, so the masts should be ready for varnishing by the time they arrived the next morning, much to the crew's delight. Alfred was looking forward to sleeping like the dead for a solid twenty-four hours once that varnish went on. For now, he had sprawled out onto the mattress in Arthur's cabin.

"Hey, move over," Arthur commanded as he nudged him gently.

"Huh?" Alfred asked blearily.

"You're taking up the whole damn bed," Arthur scolded, "Move,"

"Oh, sorry," Alfred mumbled as he rolled onto the other side of the mattress, overestimated the distance, and promptly fell onto the floor.

"Shut up," he growled as Arthur burst out laughing. He exhaled, looking up at the ceiling forlornly from where he lay on the floor. Arthur's head appeared over the side of the mattress, peering down at him inquisitively in the dim light.

"You okay, Love?" Arthur asked.

"I guess so," Alfred grumbled, rolling onto his side, then onto his knees, and finally pulling his achy body back onto the mattress with a grunt. Arthur wrapped his arms around him and softly kissed the back of his head.

"There," he said, "Now you won't go falling off,"

"Right," Alfred yawned as he nestled into his embrace.

* * *

Finally, the day arrived. Alfred enthusiastically joined Caleb and Jon in the longboat, listening as the two Irishmen discussed their plans for shore leave.

"First thing I'm doin' is findin' me a nice woman 'n' spendin' some _quality_ time," Jon announced excitedly as he rubbed his hands together.

"Aye, same here," Caleb sighed, "And then I'm just gonna drink until I pass out...I can't wait!" he added happily, "How 'bout you, Alfred?"

"Uh..." Alfred hesitated, looking over at the two of them as Jon rowed, "Well, actually, I'm looking forward to getting some sleep,"

He frowned as the other two men outright laughed at him.

"What's so funny about that?" he demanded.

"Nothing, nothing," Jon insisted, "It's just that you're--"

"Boring?" Caleb offered as the two of them burst out laughing again. Alfred shook his head, looking out at the sea.

"Oh, come on," Jon said, "Why don't you come drinkin' with us? It'll be fun,"

"Sure! 'Bout time all of us got a goddamn break, right?" Caleb agreed, "What do you say, Alfred? Come out drinkin' with us after the varnish is on?"

"...fine," Alfred conceded, sensing that they weren't going to accept 'no' as an answer.

"All right!" Caleb exclaimed happily as he took the oars from Jon, "It'll be great--you'll see!"

* * *

Oh it was great, all right.

Alfred frowned as he made his way back to where the longboats awaited. Caleb had, true to his word, passed out on the tavern floor, leaving George to look out for him as he drank himself silly. Jon had joined up with Alfred, accompanying him to the longboats from the tavern.

"And then, and then I says--HEY. And then..." Jon giggled, slapping Alfred across the shoulders. Alfred frowned even more deeply and shoved his hands into his pockets.

"Aw, c'mon, Al, whassyer problem?" Jon slurred as he staggered alongside him.

"Nothing," Alfred snapped, "I'm just looking forward to leaving," he said as they reached the main docks where the crew had been instructed to disembark. To his horror, there were no longboats.

"W-what?" he stammered, searching in the light of the lanterns dotting the docks for any sign of them.

"Aw, did someone take our boats?" Jon moaned, "Well I guess that means we're goin' back to the pub!" he exclaimed joyfully as he grabbed Alfred's wrist and dragged him back up the path to the tavern.

"Wait!" Alfred cried, digging his heels into the ground in protest. The Irishman didn't look like much, but he was strong.

"All right!" Jon declared as he literally pulled Alfred back into the bar and slammed him onto a stool, "Let's get you somethin' good!"

"Um, no, thanks--" Alfred protested, but Jon was already running across the room to get him something. He sighed, looking around. He recognized some of the characters as from Arthur's crew, but not most of them. He jumped as a woman abruptly appeared and _sat_ in his _lap_.

"Hi there, cutie pie," she crooned, smiling at him with bright red lips.

"Uh--" Alfred stammered, moving to push her off of him as she grabbed his wrists in both of her hands.

"C'mon, honey, let's go have some fun," she breathed as she leaned toward his face.

"Ah, no, I'm...broke! No money! Sorry!" Alfred blurted. The woman looked at him in disgust before leaping off of his lap and moving on to another unsuspecting victim. Alfred put his head in his hands. "I just want to go to sleep," he moaned as he rubbed his eyes.

"Hey! Gotcha somethin'!" Jon announced as he slammed a small glass full of some amber liquid in front of Alfred, grinning like a fool.

"Thanks," Alfred managed, taking the glass and sniffing its contents. Whatever it was, it was repulsive.

"Go on, try it!" Jon encouraged. Alfred shot him a look before preparing to take a very small sip. The Irishman frowned at him, displeased, and tilted the glass up as Alfred went to drink it. Most of it sloshed down the front of his shirt, though some managed to get down his throat. It burned on the way down, gagging him.

"What the hell?!" Alfred spluttered between coughs as he wiped his mouth with his sleeve. Jon laughed, taking a swig of his own drink.

"You know, Al?" Jon slurred, "You know--?" he was cut off by the woman from earlier plunked herself in Jon's lap instead. Alfred rolled his eyes as Jon immediately got up and ran out of the tavern with her.

"Great," Alfred hissed, slamming his hand on the table in anger and heading outside. He walked back to the docks, hoping someone would show up with a longboat so he could get out of this hell hole. Maybe he had missed one of them hiding behind a rock or something earlier--it was worth a look. He raised an eyebrow as...sounds...caught his attention. Obscene sounds, coming from at least two people in the shadows past the docks, behind the craggy rock outcropping.

"OH, yes..."

Alfred felt his face reddening as he practically sprinted down to the other end of the docks and leaned on the pillar. Hopefully, he was far enough out where he couldn't hear--

" YES! Oh, GOD, _YES_ , DOCTOR!"

He hurriedly plugged his ears with his fingers, blushing furiously. He couldn't think of anywhere else to go, save for the tavern again, but that was a terrible idea. He wasn't sure how many minutes ticked by, only that he was growing increasingly more uncomfortable as he feverishly scanned the docks for a boat. He shoved his fingers farther into his ears as whoever this woman was moaned obscenely and babbled all sorts of nonsense that was slowly driving him insane--

"Oh, no," he mumbled as he realized that he was at half-mast. He frowned, trying to weigh his options. He could try and swim for the Tern, he supposed--though with it being night and his arms being practically useless, that seemed like a bad option. Or, he could--

"Stop it already," he growled as the woman--and also a man, now--made a series of loud sounds that reverberated off of the stone walls and bounced around in his skull.

He bit his lip, trying to focus on something else, but nothing worked. And, he realized with a frown, he hadn't simply overlooked a longboat earlier--they simply weren't there. He decided he was better off skulking in a corner in the tavern rather than listening to any more of this nonsense. He headed back down the docks, making a beeline for the tavern as he suddenly ran into someone right in front of the door.

"Whoa!" the man exclaimed as he turned around. Alfred blinked--Arthur stared down at him with contempt at first, then a smile as he recognized him.

"Ah, hello, Lov--" he greeted as Alfred threw himself into his arms and kissed him fiercely, "Well, what's this about?" he purred as Alfred pushed him into the wall of the tavern and pressed his mouth against his. Arthur kissed him back, but pushed him back after a moment.

"Whoa, slow down, there," Arthur instructed, looking him over carefully, "What's gotten into you? I've never seen you like this," he paused, tilting his head observantly, "And I don't know if I like it or not," he added with a studious frown.

"I...I just..." Alfred panted, not being able to form a decent sentence, "I really need you. Now," he managed as he lunged for him again, but Arthur grabbed him and held him fast instead.

"Oh?" he inquired, noting how something was different about the way Alfred's hips rested against his, "What's got you so turned on, Love? Hm?"

Alfred squirmed as he tried to escape his embrace. He just wanted to tackle him, rip off his goddamn clothes, and...and...

"C-come on," he whined as Arthur picked him up and took him over behind one of the stables a ways from the busy tavern, setting him down behind a stack of crates. Alfred clawed at the other man's shirt and managed to pin him to the ground in his frenzy.

"Slow DOWN, Alfred," Arthur coached, pinching his leg.

"Ow!" Alfred yelped as Arthur rolled over on top of him, effortlessly subduing him.

"I'm on top, Love," Arthur corrected as Alfred bucked restlessly beneath him.

"F-fine, just--just make it stop," Alfred gasped as Arthur looked him over curiously. Something else glinted in his eyes, but Alfred couldn't decipher it.

"Who was it?" he asked as he leaned down and kissed Alfred on the neck. Alfred shuddered, moaning softly.

"W-who was what?" Alfred managed.

"The person who made you so excited," Arthur stated, "It's all right, you can tell me,"

"Huh?" Alfred asked as Arthur gave him a look that clearly indicated he wanted an answer, "I-I don't know,"

"You don't know?" Arthur repeated, leaning down and lightly kissing Alfred on the lips, making him lurch upward hungrily, "What happened?"

"Arthur, come ON," Alfred moaned, but Arthur was having none of it, "I...at the docks, there were people...making...n-noises," he explained, his face turning red with shame. God, what was the MATTER with him? He had never felt so embarrassed in his entire life, but...no turning back now.

"Noises?" Arthur repeated, cocking an eyebrow at him, "What are y--?"

"They were FUCKING, Arthur!" Alfred blurted, practically screaming at him, "I couldn't drown it out! The sounds were driving me mad!" he cried, thrusting his hips upward for emphasis. Arthur's expression turned from one of concern to one of lust, grinning at him devilishly as he leaned over him.

"Oh, you poor thing," he purred, making Alfred shudder, "All it takes is a little noise to get you all riled up, hm?" he added as he slid his finger along Alfred's face, down his neck, and onto his chest. Alfred whimpered, looking up at him expectantly, "Don't worry, Love, I'll relieve you," he added huskily as he drew him in for an aggressive kiss.

* * *

"Better?" Arthur asked between gasps as he held Alfred to his chest.

"Y-yeah," Alfred managed, his mind still reeling. Doing _that_ in a very public place, with naught but a pile of old wooden crates to keep them from being seen, had been thrilling. It wasn't like they were far from civilization--he could still hear the commotion from the tavern from where they were. Alfred shivered, though it wasn't because he was cold. He hadn't been able to be very discreet, he admitted with a furious blush, thrashing about and saying all kinds of things as his lover enthusiastically attended to him. It had been exciting to be in a strange place like this, even more exciting that the two of them were still mostly clothed--there simply hadn't been adequate time to strip down properly. Speaking of which, he thought with a satisfied grin, he was pretty sure one of the buttons had been snapped off of his vest in Arthur's haste to nip at his chest.

"Oh, and to answer your question: because we're both getting better at this, Love," Arthur murmured into his hair.

"What?" Alfred asked blearily.

"You asked me 'why is this so good?' earlier and I was a little too preoccupied at the moment to respond," Arthur answered slyly.

"Oh," Alfred said awkwardly as Arthur laughed and kissed him on the top of his head.

"I'm glad I found you when I did," Arthur breathed into his ear, "I would've missed out on a great time. You are simply amazing,"

"No, you are," Alfred blurted. Arthur paused for a moment, rubbing Alfred's back absently.

"I wonder what you would have done if you hadn't found me," he said thoughtfully.

"Probably would have searched until I _did_ find you," Alfred reasoned, turning to look up at him. Arthur's green eyes glinted in the dim torchlight, studying him with a small grin.

"That would have been torturous," Arthur said, tilting Alfred's face upward to kiss him, "I wouldn't want you being uncomfortable like that," he added as they separated, "You could've just found a quiet place to take care of things yourself, you know,"

Alfred felt himself turn scarlet as he looked away.

"Nothing to be ashamed of," Arthur insisted, noting his discomfort, "I wouldn't mind you cheating on me with yourself," he teased.

"Yeah, about that," Alfred said suddenly, looking back up at him, "Earlier, did you...did you think...?" he trailed off, embarrassed.

"That you were with someone else?" Arthur finished for him with a thoughtful frown, "No, you don't strike me as the type," he reasoned, looking up at the crates, "But there are plenty of people here who might try to get you to act in a manner you normally wouldn't," he added with a shrug, turning back toward him, "I decided to come ashore when you didn't come back at the end of the day to check on you,"

"You were worried?" Alfred asked with a smile. Arthur blushed and looked away.

"Well, that and I wanted to check on the state of my new mast," he added hurriedly, "I took a longboat down to the shipyard to take a look,"

"What do you think?" Alfred asked.

"They're looking good," Arthur said with a grin, though he still wouldn't meet Alfred's gaze, "I can't wait to get 'em in place so we can get the hell out of here,"

"Arthur," Alfred said, causing the other man to look at him, "Thanks for coming to find me," Arthur grinned sheepishly at him as he mumbled a barely audible "Yer welcome." Alfred snuggled into his chest happily.

"I have to admit, I was surprised to find you by yourself," Arthur said, "Thought for sure you'd be with one of the gents,"

"I was, until a...lady...took him away," Alfred mumbled awkwardly. Arthur laughed, rubbing Alfred's back gently.

"What?" Alfred demanded.

"Nothing," Arthur dismissed, "It's just sometimes I forget how young you are,"

"I'm nineteen!" Alfred protested hotly, sitting up and glaring at him. Arthur shook his head, laughing.

"Not numbers, Love," he explained, "I mean in terms of experience with these...types of people," he added as he sat up and planted a kiss on his forehead, "Moreover, you positively reeked of Scotch when I found you,"

"Yeah, no thanks to Jon. Bloody idiot," Alfred grumbled as he located his trousers and pulled them on. He paused for a moment as he got dressed and stood up to face Arthur. "Say, Arthur?"

"Yes?" Arthur asked as he began putting his belt back on.

"How old are you?" Alfred asked, "I don't think you've ever said,"

"Twenty-three," Arthur answered with a smile, "I'm an old man compared to you,"

"Yeah, because four years makes that much of a difference," Alfred teased as Arthur chuckled. Alfred picked some hay off of his clothes and laughed to himself quietly.

"What?" Arthur asked with a sly grin.

"I just think it's funny that you're the jealous type," he answered.

"I am not," Arthur bristled, walking up to him and frowning down at him indignantly.

"Sure you aren't," Alfred said as he plucked a strand of hay off of Arthur's jacket, which was as red as his face at the moment, "Anyway," Alfred said as he leaned up and pecked him on the lips, "I like it--makes me feel important,"

"You _are_ important," Arthur insisted as he put his arm over his shoulders and led him away from the stables, "You up for a drink? I was going to grab one before I headed back to the Tern, but if you don't want to--"

"No, that sounds fine," Alfred said, grateful to not have to walk very far for the time being. If he was tired before, he was bloody exhausted now.

"All right, Love," Arthur agreed as they walked toward the tavern, "You want a Scotch? One that you're not wearing?" he teased.

"Ugh, no," Alfred blanched. Arthur laughed as he pulled the door open and the two of them walked inside.

* * *


	10. Chapter 10

"What is this stuff, anyway?" Alfred asked as he took another drink of whatever Arthur had bought for him.

"Mead," Arthur answered over his mug as he took a swig, "You like it?"

"Yeah, it's good," Alfred said, "Sweeter than I thought you'd like," he commented. Arthur shrugged as he took another drink.

"Eh, you get sick of rum after a while," he reasoned, looking up from his drink as a woman clutched onto his arm and grinned into his face. She was quite thin, almost skeletal, with large brown eyes and sunken cheeks.

"Well hello there, handsome," she said silkily as she craned up into Arthur's face, "Let's say you and I have a bit of fun, hm?" she asked.

"Ah, not tonight, my dear," Arthur dismissed politely as he leaned out of her reach, "Why don't you ask that fellow over there?" he suggested as he haphazardly pointed across the tavern. The woman looked over, frowning slightly.

"See 'im? That one bloke leaning against the wall there? He looks like he could use some company," Arthur said. The woman shrugged and headed toward the man Arthur had pointed out, ruffling her unruly black hair indignantly.

"What is wrong with these people?" Alfred muttered into his mug. Arthur shrugged as he returned to his drink.

"They're just trying to make a living, Alfred," he explained, "Can't fault 'em for that,"

Alfred was about to agree with him when yet another woman approached Arthur. This one was rather short, with puffy blonde hair and heavy makeup.

"Arthur?" she squeaked, "Is that you?"

"Ah, Pearl!" he greeted as she threw her hands around his neck, "How've you been?"

"Fine, just fine!" Pearl said as Arthur rose to give her his seat. Alfred felt his eyebrows migrating into his hairline as the woman sat down in what was once Arthur's chair. Her large yellow dress crinkled as she sat, looking up at Arthur excitedly.

"What brings you to Hortensia?" she asked, "I never thought you'd bring your crew back here again after that mess with Natalia,"

"Yeah, well, we lost a mast in the storm and needed a new one," Arthur laughed, "Mat's laying low for now, so hopefully she won't find him,"

"Good luck with that--she's crazy," Pearl said flatly, shaking her head, "So...have you found somebody special yet?"

"Ugh, Pearl," Arthur muttered as he rolled his eyes.

"What? I'm serious!" Pearl said, putting her hands on her hips (or at least Alfred thought it was her hips--with all that fabric it was difficult to tell), "Just because you're Captain and busy and all doesn't mean you have to be lonely forever," she chided.

"Actually...I have," Arthur mumbled into his mug as he took a swig.

"What?!" Pearl squealed excitedly as Arthur laughed, "Where? Show me!" she said as she got to her feet and looked around--her eyes fell on Alfred and she froze.

"Erm...hello," Alfred said awkwardly as she spun around to look at Arthur.

"Him?" she asked. Arthur nodded, smiling at her.

"Oh, how WONDERFUL!" she cried, throwing her arms around Alfred's neck. Alfred's eyes widened as she kissed him on the cheek multiple times. "Oh, how nice to meet you! I'm Pearl," she said as she finally released him and sat back in Arthur's chair.

"Nice to meet you too," Alfred responded mechanically as he pulled a strand of her blonde hair from his mouth.

"And what's your name, Sweetie?" she asked kindly, long false eyelashes batting against her cheeks.

"Alfred," he answered with a slight nod.

"Ah, well it's wonderful to meet you, Alfred," she praised, clapping her hands together excitedly, "How long have you and Arthur been together?"

"Pearl," Arthur laughed, rolling his eyes again.

"Oh come on, I want to know! I've never seen you with anybody for more than a night before!" Pearl insisted, resting her elbow on the table and smiling at Alfred.

"Erm...a few weeks?" Alfred guessed with a shrug, looking at Arthur uncertainly.

"Yeah, about three weeks," Arthur reasoned as he took another drink.

"Aww, that's great," Pearl cooed, "How did you two meet?"

"Uh..." Alfred trailed off, blushing.

"On business," Arthur answered for him, "Picked him up off an island,"

"Oh, how romantic!" Pearl exclaimed with a delicate laugh, "And I suppose you two have gotten to _know_ each other quite well, hmm?"

Alfred wasn't quite sure what she was aiming at, but she clearly wanted an answer.

"Um...yes?" Alfred guessed as Pearl erupted into squeaky laughter, clapping her hands.

"Oh, Arthur, he's precious!" she declared as she turned around to look at him, "You make sure to take care of him," she added darkly, pointing a finger at him.

"I will, Pearl, I promise," Arthur said as he raised his hands in mock surrender. Alfred frowned at the prospect of being "precious," but let it slide for Arthur's sake. Pearl chatted with the two of them for a while, talking about this and that and who's been to Hortensia in the past few months. Alfred wasn't paying close attention until a familiar name was mentioned.

"By the way, that Fernández Carriedo guy was here about a month ago," Pearl mentioned as she lowered her voice. Alfred leaned in closer to the table so he could hear better.

"Yeah?" Arthur asked, suddenly looking quite serious. Pearl nodded, taking a look around the room before continuing.

"Him and his band of goons were here to restock on supplies," she said, "Said they were headed back from delivering a shipment,"

"He say where they were headed?" Arthur inquired.

"One of the girls mentioned that one of 'em was talking about the Tern," she said as she shook her head, "But he didn't give many details. I was so worried about you when I found out, but I... _could_ , and _couldn't_ contact you," she said pointedly, looking at Arthur intensely. Arthur seemed to understand, nodding slowly.

"I figure he'll be caught up to us in a couple days," Arthur said as Pearl squirmed uncomfortably in her chair.

"What are you going to do?" she asked apprehensively, "You're not gonna fight him," she commanded more than asked, raising a painted eyebrow at him.

"No, I'm not," Arthur reassured her as he put a hand on her shoulder, "But I'm not about to run from a fight if he brings one,"

"Arthur," she warned.

"Pearl, I'll be careful," he insisted, "But I want you to be careful as well--don't get mixed up in something you oughtn't for my sake,"

"My dear Arthur," Pearl said with a smile as she placed a small hand over Arthur's gently, "I _am_ being careful, but you can't tell me what to do. You never could--remember?"

A small smile crept across Arthur's face at that as he placed his other hand over hers kindly.

"Yeah, that's true," he exhaled, "But I mean it: be careful,"

"You do the same for me, then," Pearl said as she scooted off of her chair and stood behind Alfred, "It was wonderful meeting you, Alfred," she said politely as she dropped her lace glove onto the floor.

"Oh, let me get that," Alfred responded mechanically, bending down to retrieve it. She grabbed his shoulder as he leaned down to stop him.

"You be careful too, Alfred," she whispered into his ear, "Arthur is a very good man, but he can be rash at times. Please, watch out for him. Take care of him,"

"I-I will," Alfred promised as she released his arm so he could get her glove. He handed it to her and she smiled at him tiredly.

"Thank you, Dear," she said, kissing him on the forehead before heading back into the tavern. Arthur sank back into his seat, staring into this empty cup thoughtfully.

"Arthur, what was that about?" Alfred said quietly. Arthur didn't answer, but looked straight ahead at the wall opposite them.

"I think we should get going, Alfred," he said finally as he got up. Alfred followed him out of the tavern in silence.

* * *

"Pearl's been a friend of mine for years," Arthur said finally as they walked a path along the craggy shoreline above sheer cliffs toward the shipyard, "Very nice girl," he added.

"How long have you known her?" Alfred asked, eager to keep the conversation going. Arthur was acting strange, and it made him uneasy. The pirate sighed, looking up at the bright moon in the night sky.

"Oh, three years or so," he reasoned, "And I never slept with her, if that's what you're wondering," he added flatly as he raised an eyebrow at Alfred. For his part, Alfred felt a slight sense of relief at that.

"So you're just friends, then," Alfred stated.

"Don't believe me?" Arthur asked with a hint of unease.

"No, I do," Alfred answered as he smiled at him, "But I figure you've probably had lots of lovers before you met me," he added with a shrug.

Arthur was silent, walking beside him quietly.

"...right?" Alfred pried with a mischievous smirk.

"Just drop it," Arthur grunted.

"How many?" Alfred pressed.

"Alfred, please," Arthur sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"Come on," Alfred said, elbowing him playfully. Arthur remained silent, looking around at the woods on their left, "I'm not going to drop this until you tell me," Alfred warned.

"Why does it matter?" Arthur demanded.

"I just wanna know," Alfred answered matter-of-factly. Arthur sighed, looking back up at the sky again.

"Three," he mumbled, "There. Happy now?"

Alfred stared at him, shocked. Arthur turned his head slightly toward him, throwing him a look.

"What?" he demanded.

"Three?" Alfred repeated incredulously.

"Yes," Arthur snapped; Alfred could have sworn he was blushing, but in the moonlight it was hard to tell.

"Wow," Alfred commented with a smirk.

"Wow what?" Arthur growled.

"Nothing, nothing," Alfred insisted, "I just...expected there to be more, is all,"

"I'm not a whore, Alfred," Arthur snapped.

"I know that," Alfred laughed, wrapping his arm around the other man's waist and stopping him in his tracks, "And I'm glad," he added as he leaned up and drew him in for a kiss. Arthur smiled at him sheepishly.

"All right," Arthur conceded as Alfred let go of him and they continued their walk.

"So how many were men?" Alfred blurted suddenly.

"Oh, for fuck's sake..." Arthur grumbled, "What is this, an inquisition?"

"That's the last I'll ever talk about on the subject," Alfred promised.

Arthur sighed loudly, his shoulders rising and falling in agitation.

"One," he said under his breath.

"Just one?" Alfred commented, genuinely surprised, "But you're so good at it with me," he added slyly. Arthur laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Well, I..." he stammered, clearly embarrassed.

"So the other two were women," Alfred said thoughtfully, "Which was first? A man?"

"...a woman," Arthur muttered, speeding up so Alfred had to run to catch up with him.

"Ah," Alfred said. An awkward silence came between them as they walked, unbroken save for the sound of the waves lapping against the base of the cliffs below.

"Alfred, listen," Arthur blurted suddenly, stopping in his tracks and taking Alfred gently by the shoulders, "They didn't _mean_ anything," he said, looking directly into his eyes. Alfred's breath caught in his chest, looking up at the other man apprehensively.

"I never saw any of 'em again, and it was only for a night," he added, sighing and looking out at the sea for a moment. Alfred watched the breeze toss his bangs and feathers on his hat about, glinting in the silvery moonlight, "Hell, I don't think any of 'em even remember my name. I can barely recall theirs...probably got 'em all wrong," he chuckled bitterly, turning back toward Alfred with a shy smile, "Alfred...what do you think of me?" he asked quietly.

Alfred tried to come up with something deep and insightful, but blurted out his first thought instead.

"I think you're mesmerizing," he said quietly, then immediately wished he hadn't as Arthur burst into laughter, "That's not funny!" Alfred cried as the other man took his hands from his shoulders and doubled over in a laughing fit.

"Stop laughing!" Alfred demanded, "It's true, damn it! I mean, you're...you're gorgeous, all right?" he blurted, looking out at the moon and crossing his arms over his chest, "And I don't just mean how you look," he continued, refusing to look at the other man as he spoke, "You're the bravest son of a bitch I've ever met, and... _kind_. You care about your crewmen like they're your brothers, and you care about me like..." he trailed off, embarrassed, "Agh, forget it," he mumbled. He suddenly realized that Arthur was no longer laughing, and turned to face him. The captain looked stunned, staring at Alfred quietly.

"Anyway, there's your answer," Alfred muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets, "We should get going," he suggested, but Arthur stopped him by grabbing hold of his shoulder.

"Thanks, Love," he whispered. Alfred turned to look at him as the man smiled.

"That was stupid of me to say," Alfred muttered, but Arthur shook his head.

"No, it was very flattering," he said, "I'll admit I've been called a lot of things, but 'mesmerizing' certainly wasn't one of them 'til now," he laughed as Alfred blushed and looked down at his feet.

"But," he added pointedly, causing Alfred to look back up at him, "Considering you're the only person I want to keep coming back to, _ever_ , I'd reckon you've got _me_ mesmerized fairly well," he added with a sly grin.

"Heh...I reckon so," Alfred agreed with a grin as the other man leaned in and gave him a chaste kiss.

"Now let's get the hell out of here, shall we?" Arthur suggested as they continued on their way down the path. Alfred talked about his work day and Arthur about his, when Arthur suddenly stopped dead.

"What?" Alfred asked.

"Quiet," Arthur warned, looking to the outcropping of trees on their left warily. Alfred gulped as two men emerged from within the trees, cutlasses glinting sinisterly in the light of the moon.

"Well, well, what have we here?" one of them sneered as his partner cackled wickedly.

"Looks like we got us a Cap'n an' his cabin boy," the other man wheezed as the two of them slowly approached, weapons at the ready. Alfred couldn't see either of them too well, but they both looked haggard. He was fairly certain one of them was missing an eye.

He jumped as Arthur drew his sword with a metallic scraping sound and pointed it at the both of them. The two men hesitated, looking at one another before bursting into a peal of laughter.

"Oh, lookit that, he's got a sword, Jim," one man snickered.

"Stand down, gents," Arthur warned.

"Oi, you here that? 'e wants us to stand down," the one-eyed man said as the other one laughed, "We'd be more 'n' happy to, Cap'n, but we're in a bit of a predicament,"

Arthur stared them down coldly, unmoving. Alfred's eyes roved the surrounding area, looking for something he could use as a weapon.

"You see, we're a lil' strapped for coin at the moment, and we reckon you'd be able to help us out," the man continued with a nearly toothless smile. Alfred flinched as the two of them slowly began spreading out, the one-eyed man approaching from the left, the other from the right.

"Get behind me--get ready for one of 'em," Arthur said, and Alfred quickly stood back-to-back with him, glaring at the one-eyed man angrily. A branch behind him caught his eye--it looked fairly strong enough to do some damage.

"We're not looking for a fight," Arthur stated firmly.

"Well that's just too bad, Cap'n," the other man sneered, "'Cuz the fight's found you!" he cried as both of them lunged forward with a cry, swords drawn. Alfred moved to the side as the one-eyed man swung his arm down, dodging the cutlass and running up to the branch he had seen earlier. He grabbed it and spun around in time to see the man coming at him again, shouting wordlessly as he swung his sword. Alfred heaved the branch and hit the man square in the side of the head. He hit the ground, reeling. Alfred realized with a jolt that he had dropped his weapon and dashed forward to retrieve it.

He hissed as the man kicked sand in his face and abruptly got to his feet. Alfred staggered backward toward the cliff, holding the branch up and catching the cutlass in it with a loud thud. While his glasses had mostly protected his eyes from the sand, they were now clouded with a thin layer of dust that made it difficult to see. He kicked the man in the stomach with a loud grunt, then swung the branch down at his head. The man blocked his strike with his cutlass, shouting obscenities at him as he took a few steps backwards. Alfred took the opportunity to run his hand sloppily over his glasses so he could see clearly as the man moved to strike again, running at him full-bore. Alfred lunged to the side and watched in horror as the man rushed right past him, crying out in terror as he couldn't stop in time and fell over the ledge. He hit the rocks below with a sickening crack, a heap of mangled flesh dashed upon the stones. Alfred tore his eyes from what was left him and snapped his gaze toward Arthur.

The captain avoided the man's cutlass deftly, cutting off his attack with the clanking of metal-upon-metal. The man lunged forward again, cutlass glinting wickedly in the moonlight as he swung. Arthur smartly rapped the man's arm with the flat part of the rapier, causing him to lean forward as he ran at him. Arthur swiftly moved forward and elbowed the man hard in the back. Alfred winced as the man was met with Arthur's left knee in his abdomen as he went down. The man wheezed and sputtered as he hit the ground, groaning in pain. Arthur kicked him onto his side and pointed his blade at the man's throat. The man's eyes went wide as saucers, staring up at him fearfully as Arthur set his foot on the man's chest.

"Who sent you?" he asked.

"N-nobody sent us!" the man whimpered.

"What were you doing out here?" Arthur demanded icily. The man hesitated, and Arthur ground the heel of his boot into the man's ribs.

"Fuck you!" the man cried, and Arthur stepped backward and kicked him hard in the side. The man cried out in pain, rolling out onto the grass a ways before Arthur stopped him with his foot.

"Answer my question," Arthur growled.

"We were just waitin' for someone to come walkin' by," the man admitted as he glared at Arthur angrily, "Saw the bloody longboat,"

"Just the two of you?" Arthur asked, stealing a look at the woods warily. When he didn't receive an answer, he jabbed his rapier clean through the man's right hand--he howled in pain.

"YES!" he cried, "It was just us!"

"Good," Arthur said, "You all right, Alfred?"

"Y-yeah," Alfred stammered, flinching as Alfred abruptly removed his blade from the man's hand. The would-be murderer yelped and writhed in agony, clutching his bloody hand to his chest. Arthur glared at him before walking back toward Alfred.

"Look out!" Alfred cried as the man shot to his feet behind Arthur, cutlass raised high. Arthur spun, swinging his sword and slicing the man's arm clean off. The severed appendage hit the ground with a soggy thump, the cutlass with a metallic clang. The man screamed, staggering about as blood shot out of his useless stump. Alfred watched in horror as Arthur got behind him and kicked him over the ledge. The man's hysterical cries reverberated off of the cliff face until they were abruptly silenced with a loud crack. Arthur paused, then kicked the man's hand and cutlass over the edge as well. Alfred stared down at the bottom of the cliff in shock, his knees suddenly becoming weak and failing him. He collapsed onto the ground, shaking.

"Alfred, it's all right," Arthur said soothingly, sheathing his weapon and cautiously approaching. He sank onto his knees beside him and gingerly touched his shoulder.

"We killed them," Alfred managed through the chattering of his teeth.

"Yes, and it's unfortunate," Arthur said, gently turning Alfred away from the cliff, "But they attacked us--we had to defend ourselves. They left us with no other option," he explained, looking into Alfred's eyes.

Alfred nodded unsteadily at him, swallowing. He felt like he was going to be sick.

"It's going to be all right, Love," Arthur soothed as he very cautiously moved closer and wrapped his arms around him. Alfred let himself be held as he fought to stop shaking, setting his jaw.

"Arthur, I'm gonna puke," he warned. Arthur let go of him as he retched, getting onto all fours and losing his stomach all over the grass. Arthur rubbed his back and murmured soothing things to him, until, finally, it stopped. Alfred sat up and drew a deep breath, looking up at Arthur tiredly.

"Now what?" he asked weakly.

"Now we get back to the Tern," Arthur said, extending his hand to help Alfred up, "Bloody thieves just waiting to pounce on anyone walking through here...damned cowards," he muttered as Alfred shakily got to his feet and followed him, "We're nearly there--I can see the shipyard from here," Arthur added as he put his hand on Alfred's shoulder, "You all right?"

_"Help mee--!"_

"Yeah," Alfred lied, "I'm fine,"

"Nearly there," Arthur promised.

* * *

Alfred was quiet as Arthur rowed the longboat, staring up at the night sky nervously. It hadn't taken long at all to arrive at it, with no unexpected visitors along the way. Alfred stole a look back toward the cliffs, scanning for--

"Don't look," Arthur advised. Alfred obeyed, turning back toward him. He couldn't make out his face with the moonlight in back of him, but he guessed that Arthur was frowning at him sadly.

"Do you think...they were targeting us because of what you paid for the masts?" Alfred asked quietly.

_"Alfie! Alfieee, help mee--!"_

Alfred slammed his eyes shut, trying to keep the noise out. Not here. Not again.

"No, I don't think so," Arthur reasoned, "And by the looks of 'em, they've been living out in the woods here for quite some time. They must've been monitoring that path for a while, waiting to set up an ambush,"

"Okay," Alfred said quietly, "Do you want me to row?" he asked, noting how they were past the halfway point back to the ship.

"No, I've got it," Arthur said kindly, "You've done enough for one day,"

"Okay," Alfred repeated, looking down at his hands and trying to get them to stop quivering.

" _Leave her alone! OH GOD NO! STOP--!"_

He swallowed, trying his hardest not to listen and remained quiet for the rest of the ride back to the Tern. He unsteadily clambered up the ladder once they arrived, with Arthur keeping careful watch that he didn't fall from behind him. He breathed a sigh of relief as he hoisted himself up onto the deck. Sam awaited him, smiling at him in the orange light of the lantern he carried.

"Evening, Alfred--what happened?" he asked suddenly, "You look pale as a sheet, boy,"

"We got jumped," Arthur explained as he emerged from over the side, "Goddamn thieves tried to rob us, and we had to take them out,"

_"ALFIEEEE!"_

Alfred looked down at the floor sadly.

"Ah," Sam said, looking Alfred over worriedly, "Well I'm glad the both of you are all right,"

"Thanks," Arthur answered as he put an arm around Alfred's quivering shoulders, "Come on, let's go," he suggested. Alfred nodded stiffly and allowed him to lead him down the deck toward the cabin. He sank onto the bed tiredly after Arthur opened the door for him, quietly staring down at his hands.

" _Get away from her! Leave her alone!"_

"You cold?" Arthur asked as he took a seat on the bed next to him.

"Yeah," Alfred muttered, "Thanks," he added as Arthur shed his jacket and draped it across his shoulders.

"I'm sorry about that, Alfred," Arthur said quietly as he rubbed his back.

"You tried not to kill that guy," Alfred said suddenly, "But..." he trailed off with a shrug, closing his eyes. His head was swimming, images bubbling their way up to the surface now along with the shouting. _A child's arm lying in the open doorway, pale and cold. His mother, her clothing torn and glassy eyes gazing at him in horror as red slid from the peculiar "u" etched into her throat--_

"You didn't mean to kill the other one, either," Arthur pointed out, "They gave us no other choice,"

"I know," Alfred admitted, shivering violently. Arthur drew him close, putting his cheek against Alfred's.

"You _are_ cold," Arthur muttered as he pried the blankets back, "Get into bed," he ordered. Alfred fumbled with his boots, succeeding in removing one of them as he clumsily went to take off the other one. _Get in the cabinet! Hide! Gunfire, a thud, his mother's shriek--_

"I've got it, Love," Arthur said kindly as he removed his other boot for him.

"Sorry," Alfred muttered, embarrassed.

"Don't be," Arthur insisted, "Nothing to be sorry about," he added as he lifted Alfred's legs and tucked him into bed. He gently removed Alfred's glasses and set them on the crate acting as a table on the other side of the bed. He removed his hat and boots and climbed in next to Alfred, wrapping his arms around him.

"I'm useless, aren't I?" Alfred said quietly. _A guttural laugh. "C'mere, you little bitch--"_

"Useless?" Arthur repeated as if offended, "You're anything but useless, Alfred. You're a very skilled carpenter, based on what the crew's been telling me,"

"That's not what I mean," Alfred mumbled, closing his eyes to try and keep what was coming to the surface out. It wasn't working. _Laughter, tearing of fabric, his mother's screaming, Ange's terrified shriek, little footfalls on the boards--_

"Alfred, look at me," Arthur said. Alfred opened his eyes, looking into Arthur's green ones quietly, "You are anything but useless. What happened with those two...people..." he faltered, searching for the right word, "has nothing to do with who you are. You were simply defending yourself,"

"Okay," Alfred responded quietly as Arthur continued to praise him and speak words of comfort, but they were being drowned out by everything else. Static, like water rushing past his ears. _Run, Ange! Run! Mommy mommy no! Laughter, a hideous crack, a thud--_

"Alfred?" Arthur called, looking down at him worriedly. Alfred could barely hear him over the commotion in his skull, "Alfred, talk to me,"

"I...yes?" Alfred muttered, blinking up at him tiredly, "I'm fine," he insisted. Arthur reached over and ran his thumb over Alfred's cheek. He held it in front of Alfred's eyes--a drop of water slid over his thumb and plunked onto the blankets quietly.

"No, you aren't," Arthur insisted, pulling him closer with one arm and grasping Alfred's hand with the other.

"Am I crying?" Alfred asked suddenly.

"Yes," Arthur answered, "What's going on, Love?"

"I..." _Ange Ange run you have to run away--_

"Tell me," Arthur said worriedly as he tightened his grip on Alfred's hand, "I'm listening,"

"It's...just...things I remember," Alfred answered cryptically. He didn't want to sound that strange, but he was simply having trouble speaking over the racket. _MOMMY WHY WON'T DADDY WAKE UP? Ange, RUN! Where's Alfie? Where's--?_

"...things?" Arthur pried.

"I feel foolish, acting like this," Alfred said glumly. Why did this have to happen again? _ALFIEEE? ALFIEEE, HELP ME--!_

"You aren't foolish," Arthur insisted, "It's foolish to ignore whatever's making you feel this way, though," he added pointedly, "Go on, tell me,"

Alfred sighed, grasping Arthur's hand tightly. Arthur squeezed his hand in-turn, rubbing his shoulder where his other arm held him fast.

"The night my family..." Alfred trailed off, drawing a deep breath, "I was just a child," _ALFIIEEE? NOOO! Get away from her! Leave her alone! OH GOD NO! STOP--! The sound of someone being hit. Shut up, ya whore--!_

"I hid in the cabinet," he said quietly; Arthur had to lean in to hear him, "They came in and shot my father...my mother tried to leave with my sister, but..." _Shrieking, the ripping and tearing of fabric, the sickening sound of metal slicing open flesh--_

"I'm sorry, Alfred," Arthur whispered.

"I didn't do anything," Alfred said hollowly, "I just crouched in that cabinet as they murdered my family, like a damned coward,"

"You were only a child," Arthur pointed out.

"So was Ange!" Alfred shouted angrily. Arthur looked at him in surprise, but didn't respond. Alfred sank miserably onto the mattress, shaking his head, "I'm sorry, Arthur, I'm sorry," he muttered, embarrassed.

"Don't be, it's all right," Arthur reassured him.

"She wasn't just my sister, Arthur," Alfred said softly as he felt a tear slide down his face from his right eye, "She was my _twin_. We were so close, and I...I didn't even try to save her," he whispered, closing his eyes and turning away from his lover in shame. _The creaking of the cabinet door as he emerged, his sister's hand limply lying in the doorway, a trickle of her own blood--of_ his _own--sliding across the floor--Ange? ANGE?! MOTHER? PLEASE, WAKE UP--!_

"There was nothing you could have done," Arthur insisted quietly as he gently rubbed Alfred's hand, "They would have killed you, too,"

"Maybe," Alfred agreed half-heartedly, "But I didn't even _try_ ,"

Arthur was silent for a few moments, causing Alfred to turn and look back at him. His green eyes were filled with worry, with a genuine concern and tenderness that made Alfred's heavy heart sing. He loved him. This man, truly and unequivocally, loved him. He wasn't content just to know his body--he would have left Alfred to his sniveling in misery by himself if that were true. He wanted to truly _know_ him, to know his thoughts, share in his troubles, and, most endearingly, to _help_ him. This thought pulled Alfred back to reality, little by little.

"Alfred, their deaths were _not_ your fault," Arthur said quietly, realizing at last why he was so troubled, "Just as what happened today was not your fault,"

"I...I know," Alfred reasoned, nodding, "I know, but..."

"I understand," Arthur said as he squeezed his hand again.

"It's stupid of me to think that way, and I thought I had gotten over it already, but I guess...I guess I haven't," Alfred mumbled, realizing with relief that the sounds of his sister's petrified screams and his mother's final moments had finally subsided.

"No, it's not stupid at all," Arthur said gently, "It's not something that just goes away," he added quietly, something distant in his eyes as he looked down at the blankets. He recovered quickly, though, and returned his green gaze back onto Alfred.

"Have you...?" Alfred trailed off, shaking his head, "No, never mind,"

"No, it's all right," Arthur sighed, "I've felt the same way at times--several times. There are times when I still do," he admitted.

"I'm sorry," Alfred said. Arthur shook his head with a soft smile.

"Stop being sorry all of the time," he teased, "You have nothing to apologize for,"

They were silent for a while, and Alfred felt himself starting to doze. It was as if he'd forgotten how exhausted he was, and it suddenly came back all at once.

"Hey, Arthur?" he murmured groggily.

"Yes?" the other man answered.

"Thank you," Alfred said.

"Any time, Love," Arthur said. The sheets rustled and Alfred felt him plant a kiss on his forehead, "You can talk to me about anything, anytime,"

"Same here," Alfred said.

"Good-night," Arthur said quietly. Alfred tried to answer him, but he was already half-asleep.

* * *

Arthur lay awake, holding Alfred fast and listening to him breathe. He had finally fallen asleep, but it was a restless one. He twitched and mumbled uncharacteristically--Arthur frowned sadly as he definitely caught the name "Ange" in there a couple of times. Alfred had briefly told him about how he had lost his family, but he had no idea that he had been in the house when it had happened. Still, he was glad Alfred had confided in him--that was an incredibly heavy burden for one person to bear. He grinned bitterly, shaking his head. Sure, he was one to talk about such things.

He cautiously rolled over and blew the candle out on the crate beside the bed, careful not to disturb Alfred. He mumbled in his sleep, but Arthur succeeded in not waking him. Usually his partner slept like a stone, but he didn't want to risk anything. He slid down into bed, cradling Alfred to his chest and closing his eyes. Bloody HELL, he was tired. Between working on the ship, those goddamned thieves, and, he recalled with a smile, his and Alfred's little tryst earlier that day, Arthur was spent. He frowned as his thoughts turned to Pearl.

_"I could, and couldn't contact you."_

Arthur sighed--that couldn't have been good. Pearl was an even more experienced Seer than he was; for her to be uneasy about it boded very ill. He grinned as Alfred mumbled his name in his sleep this time and nuzzled his face into Arthur's shoulder. He would look into it tomorrow--for now, everything else could wait.

* * *


	11. Chapter 11

He peered into the mirror, staring into vivid green eyes that were his own, yet not. He kept staring straight ahead of him as dim lights began to flicker across his reflection.

"Lights," he said quietly, allowing himself to fall farther into his trance. The lights danced, slowly at first, then gradually began to hover around his face in a circle, coming together and then collapsing and falling, seemingly, out of the frame of the mirror and onto the floor. The surface of the mirror moved and he felt himself falling through it, face-first into black, murky water.

"The sea," he mumbled to himself as his eyes glazed over, "Darkness,"

The ocean suddenly gave way, bursting out of the frame of his mirror and onto the floor of his cabin, and he was standing on moldy wooden planks. He watched as he was suddenly drawn forward, propelled over the land and set down upon the sandy shoreline. He could hear waves crashing against the rocks outside of the break wall, distant at first and growing louder with each passing thud of his heartbeat.

"An island," he breathed as his shoulders relaxed and he sank deeper into his chair, "Waves upon the water,"

Something lying on the beach caught his attention. Two long spires of lacquered wood...he looked down as sparks of light emerged from the sand and danced along the spires. He watched as they began moving, bobbing up and down with the waves upon the sea as they marched out over the water toward the horizon.

"A...string of lights," he slurred as he was carried upon the water, drawn out to the hulking silhouette of--

"A ship," he noted, a delirious grin creeping over his face, "A damaged ship, without a mast," he added dreamily as the scene suddenly split straight down the middle and exploded, shards of glass tinkling around him delicately as he fell through oblivion.

And then he was standing in a cave, shrouded by mist and silence save for the dripping of water from the arched stone ceiling.

"A cave," he whispered. He felt the cool air against his face as the mirror rippled and a man appeared, donned in a bright red jacket and pointing a sword at him.

"Kirkland," he growled as the image shifted abruptly to the cave again, only this time the floor of the cave was dotted with glittering stones and ores. They shimmered in the haze filling the cave, clouding him from seeing them properly.

"Stones...? Gemstones...?" he murmured as the image flickered and appeared to melt, sliding down the face of the mirror and out of the frame, onto his hands, his arms, enveloping him in a blackness dotted with the faintest glimmering of shimmering stones--

"Hey! What the hell're you doin,' eh?" a voice suddenly demanded from behind him. Antonio hissed and grasped his head as he was abruptly torn out of his trance. He reeled for a moment, waiting for the room to stop spinning before turning to face the source of the voice.

"DAMN IT, Lovino!" he cried, "How many times have I told you not to interrupt me like that?!"

The Italian scoffed at him, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

"Interrupt what, you staring at yourself all day? You're a goddamn narcissist," he spat.

"You _know_ what I was doing," Antonio growled, rising from his chair and stalking toward him angrily, "And I've warned you about what happens if you interrupt me," he added darkly as he jabbed the younger man sharply in the ribs, "It _hurts_ , you know,"

"Ow!" Lovino yelped as he took a step backward, "What's the matter with you?"

Antonio glared at him angrily before turning back toward his mirror, leaning on the table beneath it tiredly. 'Seeing' was an exhausting process, but well worth it once he'd developed a mastery of the technique.

"I've found him," he announced. Lovino's reflection blinked at him curiously in the mirror.

"Found who?" he asked.

"Kirkland," Antonio answered, licking his lips excitedly, "We're gonna kill 'im,"

"Oh really?" Lovino asked with a grin, mischief creeping onto his face, "Where? How soon?" he asked excitedly.

"Soon," Antonio sighed, standing and stretching his arms, "His ship was damaged during the storm--we'll catch him before he nabs the treasure,"

"And..what happens when we do?" Lovino asked slyly, walking over and slipping his arm around the other man's waist with a devilish grin.

Antonio smiled, looking down at him and tweaking the elegant curl in his hair with his fingertips. Lovino gasped and blushed furiously as he pushed away from him. The Italian glared at him, arms folded over his chest.

"We kill him, and take his cargo...maybe even his ship," Antonio answered quietly with a wicked smirk, "After we toy with him a bit,"

"Toy with him?" Lovino repeated, arching an eyebrow in curiosity.

"You'll see, Mi Vida," Antonio said as he walked past him and out onto the deck. The salt air tossed his brown bangs into his eyes as he smiled. Oh, yes. He would see.

* * *

Alfred awoke before Arthur for once, to his surprise. The captain was sound asleep, curled around Alfred protectively. He blushed, recalling their last conversation with a pang of guilt. Poor Arthur, having to listen to his nonsense. Still, though, he figured with a shy smile, Arthur genuinely _wanted_ to help him. He had to, or he certainly wouldn't have put up with all of that.

He smiled as Arthur muttered something in his sleep and drew him closer into his chest. Alfred waited a moment, making sure he was still asleep before stealing a look out the windows on the far wall. It was early morning, by the looks of it, a little before sunrise. He closed his eyes and sank back into the perfect indentation of his body in the mattress he had been sleeping in. Good thing he had today off.

The next time he awoke, it was definitely late morning, and Arthur was still passed out next to him. Alfred sat up, looking down at Arthur worriedly. He never slept this late--hell, it was weird enough that he wasn't up at dawn. He nudged the other man gently on the shoulder.

"Hey, Arthur?" he called. No response. "Arthur?" he repeated as he nudged him again, starting to get worried.

"Hnn...what...?" Arthur answered blearily, cracking one green eye open.

"Are you all right?" Alfred asked.

"Yeah, yeah..." Arthur slurred as he sank back into his pillow and drifted off again. Alfred frowned, taking his hand and placing it on Arthur's forehead. He felt fine, he figured--maybe a little warm, but nothing serious. Alfred grinned as the other man began snoring softly and very slowly crept out of his embrace. After a while, he was free. He quietly pulled on his boots and tiptoed to the other side of the bed to retrieve his glasses. He donned them, peeled off Arthur's jacket he had spent the night in, laid it on the end of the bed, and quietly walked outside. He frowned, noting how his spectacles were covered in dust. He walked over to the railing and wiped them on the hem of his shirt.

It was sunny and hot today, as usual. He stole a look up into the sun blistering in the cloudless sky, shielding his eyes. He looked to his left as someone approached.

"Afternoon!" Sam said cheerfully as he set the coil of rope he was carrying down on the deck beside the railing, "How you feelin'?" he asked.

"Much better," Alfred said, shrugging and immediately wishing that he hadn't. Every muscle in his body ached. Sam noted his discomfort and snorted.

"Yeah, join the club," he joked, "Everybody on ship's a damn cripple today--at least they can drink it away for a bit, right?"

"I guess so, yeah," Alfred reasoned as Sam turned to walk up the deck and abruptly stopped.

"Oh, hey--so Tom 'n' I are headin' in for a bit, gonna pick up a few things. You want in?" he asked, "Might do some fishin' while we're at it if you're interested," he added with a crooked grin.

"Sure," Alfred blurted before he could stop himself. His achy body practically screamed at him, throbbing in-time with his heart. _Idiot._

"Great. I'll let you know when we're off," Sam said as he headed toward the bow.

* * *

Sam had volunteered to row, much to Tom and Alfred's relief. Alfred pointedly looked away from the cliffs he and Arthur had walked above the night before, recalling the captain's warning.

"So where're we off to?" Alfred asked.

"There's a nice spot on the other side of the island," Tom explained, "Sam saw it when he was movin' the Tern, says it looks like a nice fishing spot,"

"Damn straight!" Sam said with enthusiasm as he rowed them out to the opposite side of Hortensia, past the docks. He stopped as another longboat approached, and the man within waved.

"Afternoon!" Mat greeted as he directed the boat alongside them, "What're you all up to?"

"Goin' fishin'," Sam explained, cocking his head at Mat and grinning, "What the hell were you doin' on land? Thought you were tryin' to avoid your girlfriend," he added, causing Tom to burst into laughter. Alfred bit his lip and tried to keep a straight face. Mat frowned, throwing Sam a look and tossing his unruly curl out of his face.

"Actually, I was taking a night off," he said, "Spent the night out on the beach--well, more like bunch of rocks, but, still," he added with a shrug.

"...alone?" Sam pried, raising an eyebrow at him, "Or was _Natalia_ with you?"

"She was NOT," Mat said hotly, grasping the oars again, "I'll be damned if she ever comes within two hundred yards of me again,"

"So...it _was_ someone else, then," Sam said with a smirk. Alfred arched an eyebrow--wait a minute. The other night, at the docks...

_"Oh, GOD, YES, DOCTOR!"_

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Alfred muttered under his breath, turning and looking out at the ocean as his face turned scarlet. Sam and Tom noticed his reaction and laughed.

"Yeah, for fuck's sake is right," Tom laughed, "Yer gonna get yourself into another mess, there, Doc! Now you'll have two of 'em comin' after you!"

"No, I won't," Mat growled, "And why is it any of your business, anyhow?" he snapped, slapping one of the oars onto the surface of the water and splashing the three men in the other longboat.

"Hey!" Sam shouted as Tom and Alfred laughed.

"See you later!" Mat called as he continued rowing toward the Tern. Sam shook his head as he picked up the oars and propelled them on their way.

"Mat's a nice fellow, but he's stupid when it comes to women," he commented.

"Everyone's stupid about something," Tom pointed out, "Or some _body_ ," he added pointedly, watching Sam's ears turn red.

"Yeah, I guess," Sam mused as he turned and looked out at the island, "Nearly there--see it?" he asked as he pointed at a rocky outcropping that formed a kind of harbor.

"Yep, I see it," Tom agreed, "Where're we gettin' bait from, though?"

"I got it," Sam answered as he produced a fistful of tiny glass beads from his pocket, woven into small netting, "See? These ought to work great!"

* * *

Alfred stared into the water for what felt like forever, holding onto the makeshift fishing rod Sam had brought along with them. The water was calm within the cove, almost glass-like save for a few small ripples. Tom sighed, leaning back on his elbows.

"Nearly an hour and a half, and not a single bite," he declared, looking over at Sam.

"Well if I were a fish, I'd bite those," Sam shrugged as he gestured toward the beads on the end of his fishing line, "Not my fault they're blind,"

"Eh, it's still nice to just sit in the shade for a while...right, Alfred?" Tom asked cheerily, collapsing onto his back and stretching out onto the smooth rocks.

"Yeah, definitely," Alfred agreed.

"Say, Alfred," Tom said after several moments of silence, "I heard about what happened the other night, with the thieves,"

"Oh," Alfred answered half-heartedly, ashamed. He intensely focused on the water beneath him, refusing to meet the man's gaze.

"I'm glad you and the Cap'n are all right," Tom continued, "But..." he trailed off as if thinking of what to say next.

"Fightin' is part of being a pirate, Alfred," Sam finished for him, "'N' sometimes it ends badly," he added. Alfred peered over at him--the boatswain was looking over at him, concern etched into his face.

"And I've never seen the Cap'n take anyone out unless it was necessary," Tom pointed out, "He doesn't seem to have a bloodlust or anything like that--I'm sure that's how it went yesterday, right?"

"...yeah," Alfred muttered, turning his attention back onto the water again.

"Listen, we didn't ask you go join us to lecture you," Sam sighed, "But...if you want, we can teach you how to fight proper. You know, if you want,"

Alfred looked at him with a studious frown as Sam shrugged.

"Well what about you, though?" he blurted suddenly, "Do you 'take people out' only when necessary? Because back in that village..." he trailed off, biting his tongue. The last thing he needed was for them to become angry with him, in an isolated spot on the island where nobody would find him...what was he, an idiot? Yes, he decided, yes he was. He frowned, mentally smacking himself.

The other two were quiet for a few moments--Alfred guessed they were exchanging pointed glances at one another, but he couldn't bring himself to look up at them. Arthur had explained a few things about the fateful day that they had met, but as for the rest of the crew...

"Fair enough," Tom sighed, "Listen, Alfred...you know the people in that village weren't any good, right?"

"Yeah," Alfred answered quietly, "Arthur told me,"

"So you know how they stole from us, killed our men--"

"What?" Alfred interrupted as he looked up at him. Tom's face was stern, his mouth pressed into a thin line as he nodded slowly.

"Those bastards cost us four good men," Sam added, "Cut 'em down when they stormed the Tern 'n' stole our cargo,"

"They managed to storm the ship?" Alfred blurted in disbelief, intrigued. Sam glowered at his fishing line and spat into the water.

"Bloody cowards hit us while we were in port, restocking," he muttered, "Most of the crew was in town, gathering up what we needed...Tino 'n' the others didn't stand a chance,"

"Fought like lions, though," Tom added with a half-hearted smile, "Berwald took five of 'em out himself, based on the way the bodies were..." he trailed off sadly. Alfred looked on in shock as Sam let out a bitter laugh.

"Ha, yeah," he said, shaking his head, "He was quiet, but that goddamn Viking knew how to fight,"

"All of 'em did," Tom said quietly, "Anyway, Alfred, they took what cargo we had and retreated to that island village you were in," he continued, looking at Alfred sternly, "Took us a while to find 'em, but we gave chase, and...well, we took 'em out,"

"But I thought that was the Spic guy who did that," Alfred asked, "The one who's supposedly on his way,"

"It was," Sam explained, "He wasn't there, I don't think, but those were _his_ men followin' _his_ orders. That entire village was filled with 'em--even the women," he elaborated with a heavy sigh, "They all switched out from time to time, like his goddamn navy or something, taking shifts on ship with him 'n' taking on odd jobs in the interim,"

"Like...selling people," Alfred deduced. He jumped at the ferocity in Sam's eyes after that--the man looked positively feral.

"Yeah, those fuckers," he growled, "Murderers 'n' slave traders...pah! Disgusting,"

"We came back to take back what was ours, and they put up a fight, so..." Tom trailed off with a shrug, "They left us no choice but to fight back, and...well, I'll admit we weren't too sympathetic to 'em,"

"Aye," Sam muttered, "But we did what we had to do,"

Alfred was silent for a time, staring into the water quietly as his mind reeled. Arthur certainly hadn't mentioned any of that, maybe in an attempt to spare his feelings. He smiled to himself, recalling how he had listened to him the night prior, comforted him...that had to have been it.

"So, if you want to survive, you've got to learn to fight," Sam continued, "Tom doesn't look like much, but he's got a mean left hook,"

"Hey," Tom said flatly.

"Just sayin' is all," Sam said with a laugh.

"And this one used to box," Tom said as he jabbed his thumb in Sam's direction, "Bare-knuckled fights in the mean streets of Inverness, eh, Sam?"

"Aye, for a while, there," Sam mused, looking up at the sky and grinning, "Anyway, Alfred, whaddaya say? I don't know too much about sword-fighting, unfortunately--the Cap'n's the expert on that, so you'd have to ask him on that stuff, but hand-to-hand fightin's what I can help ya with,"

"Same here," Tom added, "You interested?"

"Definitely," Alfred said, giving them both a firm nod, "When do we start?"

"When my arms aren't fallin' off," Tom said as Sam laughed.

"As soon as we're outta Hortensia, all right?" Sam offered.

"Sounds good," Alfred said excitedly, "Thanks--" he faltered as he tugged on his fishing pole to take it out of the water. Surprisingly, he was met with resistance. "Whoa!" he exclaimed, tugging on the pole again, "I think I've got one!" he declared excitedly.

"What?!" Tom blurted as he shot up and scurried over to where Alfred was trying to haul the line in, "Bring 'im in, bring 'im in!" he coached excitedly as Alfred tugged on the fishing pole. The line was taut with resistance--Alfred could feel something clunking along at the other end of the line, and it was heavy.

"All right!" Sam cheered as he walked over as well, "Come on, pull 'im up already!"

"I'm trying!" Alfred said as he stepped backward and triumphantly yanked his catch out of the water. He blinked; an old boot lay upon the shore, the crumbling wet leather glinting in the sunlight over the water.

"It's...a boot," Alfred muttered. There was a split second of silence, and then all three of them howled with laughter.

"Well, you can't say you didn't catch anything, Alfred," Tom teased between laughs, clapping a hand on his shoulder and turning to Sam, "All right, I think that's enough fishing for one day. Let's head in and get our supplies,"

"All right," Sam conceded, stealing a look at the boot and chuckling, "Fuckin' boot," he muttered as he followed the other two men to the longboat.

* * *

Arthur looked up as hurried footsteps approached the room he was in. Pearl burst through the door backwards, closing it carefully behind her.

"Well hello there, Handsome!" she greeted as she began to turn around, "I can't wait to--what?! Arthur!" she exclaimed as she laid eyes on him. Arthur laughed, waving at her from where he sat perched on the edge of the dresser.

"Hey there, Pearl," he greeted as she ran over to him and kissed him on the cheek.

"You naughty thing," she scolded, putting her hands on her hips, "What would Alfred say if he knew you were in a brothel, hm?"

Arthur chuckled, shaking his head.

"Well I've paid for the time, but I'm here to chat," he said as he took Pearl's hand and followed her over to the bed. He sat down next to her as she looked him over worriedly, brown eyes filled with anxiety. She ran her hands through her teased blonde curls, licking her lips nervously.

"First of all," she said as she looked up at him pointedly, "You didn't have to pay for anything, my dear--you know I'd always make time to chat with you,"

Arthur smiled and gave her a hug as she threw an arm around him and snuggled into his shoulder.

"Secondly," she sighed, "I'm very glad you came. I suppose you're here to discuss a certain Spaniard," she deduced, sitting back and looking up at him.

"What happened, Pearl?" Arthur asked. She drew a deep breath and turned toward him, her yellow dress ruffling loudly as she moved.

"I saw that man's ship roll in, and I knew there would be trouble," she began, removing her lace gloves and toying with them in her lap, "I didn't see him, but I saw his crewmen. Many of them came into the brothel over the two days they were here, but I don't recall seeing the captain,"

She looked back up at Arthur, who was listening intently.

"Several of the girls told me the men had talked about your ship. Their captain was setting out to wreck it, some plan to get you...I got nervous, so I tried Seeing, just to try and find you," she continued, "I had just managed to make out the outline of your ship, being tossed about in a horrible storm, and..." she trailed off, shaking her head.

"What?" Arthur pressed.

Pearl looked up at him, drawing another deep breath.

"And when I tried to look further, to try and warn you...his face appeared in front of me," she whispered.

"...what?" Arthur blurted, "What, the Spic's face?"

Pearl nodded fervently, obviously quite distressed.

"Well, you know that images pop up like that when Scrying," Arthur explained, but Pearl shook her head vehemently.

"No, it wasn't just that," she insisted, "His face showed up, and he was _looking_ at me. He _saw_ me, Arthur. Laughed at me, like the devil--I lost my connection. It felt like my head was going to explode,"

Arthur frowned worriedly. That...wasn't possible. Scrying was all about interpreting vague images, taking distant sounds and sensations and trying to make a story out of them to predict what was to be.

"You mean...he was interrupting your Seeing?" Arthur asked carefully, "You can throw things into my Seeing, though," he pointed out, "Remember before, when you warned me about the--?"

"That was different," Pearl insisted as she ran her fingers through her hair worriedly, "I can throw a sign your way, if we're both Seeing at the same time, like a bird or something, but THIS was different. It was like he was staring at me through my Scrying glass, and then severed the connection I had," she explained, shaking her head, "Arthur, I've never seen anything like it,"

"You think he can do that?" Arthur asked.

"Definitely. He's using some magic that I have never seen before," Pearl said quietly, "And he's hell-bent on finding _you_. I'm worried about what he might do to you," she added as she wrung her hands.

"Don't worry about me," Arthur comforted as he put his hand over hers gently, "I'll be long gone by the time he gets here,"

"I certainly hope so, but how do you know that? Did you See it?" she asked.

"Well, yes, I confirmed my navigation with Seeing before the storm," Arthur answered matter-of-factly, "Haven't checked since we got here, though," he added, mentally kicking himself.

"What if...he's disrupting your Seeing so you aren't actually viewing the truth?" Pearl whispered. Arthur frowned worriedly, putting his hand up to his jaw.

"The last time I tried was three weeks ago," Arthur admitted, "I've been, uh...out of commission for the most part," he added glumly.

"What happened?" Pearl asked, concerned.

"Clocked my head during the storm when the mast broke," Arthur answered, removing his hat and moving his bangs aside so Pearl could see the bruise. It wasn't anywhere near as ugly as it had been, but it was still significant. Pearl gasped, exploring the injury gently with her fingertips.

"Oh, Arthur," she sighed, "Why can't you just stay out of trouble?"

"Trouble finds me," he said with a shrug, "Besides, Alfred saved my life. I might've died if it weren't for him," he added quietly. Pearl managed a smile as he put his hat back on.

"I'm glad you have him," she said, "But that doesn't change the fact that you have a potentially very dangerous enemy coming after you. I don't know what other power he has, but it's fearsome. Be CAREFUL," she warned as she pointed at him.

"Have you tried Seeing since this happened?" Arthur asked suddenly. Pearl shook her head.

"I've been too afraid to try, honestly," she admitted with a shrug, "Those eyes, Arthur..." she trailed off, shuddering, "Like green flames, they are. Scary,"

Arthur frowned, rising to his feet and pacing around the small room. Antonio was fairly skilled in the occult arts--though not nearly as good as him when it came to Scrying, but projecting his consciousness into a Scrying session just didn't make sense. How could he have managed such a thing?

"Do you reckon it was the distance?" Arthur asked, turning toward Pearl and frowning thoughtfully. She frowned, looking sidelong at him.

"You mean because he was so close to me at the time? Maybe," she reasoned, "Perhaps that's a way to tell if he's close or not--"

"No," Arthur commanded, "I don't want you Scrying again until I figure out what the hell is going on. You might get hurt,"

Pearl smiled at him softly, rising from the mattress and taking Arthur by the hand.

"Arthur, dear, what did I tell you about trying to tell me what to do?" she asked with a smirk.

"At least wait until I try it first," Arthur pressed, "I'm going to give it a shot tonight, see if I can track down where the hell he went,"

"Fine," Pearl conceded after a moment's pause, "But be careful,"

"I will," Arthur promised as someone rapped on the door to the room.

"Next!" a gruff woman's voice shouted.

"Time to go," Pearl sighed, embracing Arthur and kissing him on the cheek. He returned the gesture and walked her over to the doorway, "But you come to me once you've found out anything--got it?"

"Got it," Arthur answered as Pearl nodded at him, waved, and scurried down the hallway. Arthur excused himself from the building and walked down to the docks where his longboat awaited, glinting in the orange light of the early evening sun. He frowned as he began rowing back to the Tern, mind racing. Time to find out what he was up against.

* * *

_Notes:"Scrying" or "Seeing" is a practice which involves perceiving images through a candle flame or reflective surface (mirrors, water, crystal balls, someone else's eyes, etc.) Smooth, black obsidian slabs were often used as reflective surfaces for the purposes of Scrying, called scrying plates. The scryer induces a trance-like state and reports the images he/she sees in the flame or reflective surface, and it is believed that these images can be used to predict future events (divination). There are many methods of Scrying, one of which is to look and the images and report them to oneself aloud, drawing the scryer deeper into his/her trance-like state._


	12. Chapter 12

Alfred looked out at the Tern as they approached, sighing. The longboat had been loaded with a few coils of rope, crates of some kind of tar to repair holes in the hull, and other miscellaneous things Alfred wasn't certain of what they were while he, Sam, and Tom had been at Hortensia that afternoon. He had made a purchase, himself--a string of bright red glass beads for Arthur's hat. He fished them out of his pocket and admired them.

"Those're different," Sam commented as he rowed, "Never seen that shade of red in glass before,"

"Yeah, I thought they were interesting," Alfred said, fighting not to blush.

"He'll love 'em, Alfred," Tom said with a smile. Alfred looked at him briefly before looking away in embarrassment. Sam chuckled, rolling his shoulders in discomfort.

"Let me row," Alfred offered, "There's more stuff now,"

"Nah, I got it--" Sam protested.

"Come on," Alfred pressed.

"Well, all right," Sam conceded, surrendering the oars. Alfred switched places with him, but made sure to face away from him and Tom. He looked up at the sky over the island instead, turning orange and fiery red. Sam murmured something to Tom, but over the wind and waves Alfred couldn't make it out. That suited him just fine.

* * *

He stretched as he helped them load the last of their booty onto the deck of the Tern. Sam had offered to put everything away, leaving Alfred free to grab some food. He figured he wanted to eat something before presenting Arthur with his gift. He smiled; he hoped the captain would like them. He headed down to the galley and sat down with a plate of ham, an apple, and, surprisingly, a biscuit with molasses. He sat next to Mat, who was munching on molasses-covered apple slices.

"Look, Alfred!" he greeted as Alfred took his seat, "Molasses!" he cheered happily, his face splitting into a wide grin, "It's not maple syrup, but it's close,"

"Huh?" Alfred asked as he bit into his bread, "What's that?"

Mat looked at Alfred as if he'd slapped him.

"Oh, come on," he said flatly, "You've never had maple syrup?"

When Alfred shook his head, the first mate rolled his eyes.

"It's the best," he said dreamily, leaning his head on his hand and looking down at his apple forlornly, "It's sugar from trees--you can put it on just about anything,"

"Sounds good," Alfred agreed.

"It is," Mat said with a nod, "Next time we're up by the St. Lawrence, I'm making the Captain stop and pick some up," he added resolutely.

They chatted over dinner for a while, talking about what herbs Mat had managed to scrounge up, along with a few salves and things that ought to be useful. Alfred told him about his fishing trip, causing the first mate to burst out laughing.

"A boot? All you caught was a boot?" he chuckled, wiping his glasses on his shirtsleeve.

"Well at least I can say that I caught something, right?" Alfred joked as he stood up, "I'm going to see if the Captain's around,"

"He went on shore for something a while ago, but he ought to be back by now," Mat reasoned, "See you!" he said cheerily as he waved.

He walked down the dock and anxiously pulled the door of Arthur's cabin open. He stepped inside, surprised to find Arthur crouched on the floor, leaning over something in the dark. Only a single candle lit the interior, placed on the floor directly in front of him.

"Arthur?" Alfred called, but there was no response. He was about to call out again when Arthur spoke.

"...the sea," he mumbled.

"Huh?" Alfred asked as he cautiously approached. He leaned down and looked into the man's face--his green eyes were half-lidded, gazing into his reflection in a glassy black stone on the floor. Alfred couldn't help but stare into it--it was perfectly, impossibly smooth, displaying the captain's dazed image up at him flawlessly.

"Arthur, are you--?"

"...cave...precious stones..." Arthur murmured drowsily.

Alfred sat down across from him, watching the man cautiously. He considered shaking him, but decided against it. Whatever was going on, Arthur had clearly planned it and probably didn't want to be disturbed. Alfred watched nervously as Arthur leaned over the black stone in silence, save for the occasional muttering of nonsense. He frowned; whatever he was up to, he hoped it would be over with soon.

* * *

"...cave...precious stones..." Arthur murmured drowsily, feeling himself sinking farther into his trance as he was pulled inside of the obsidian, landing on a craggy outcropping of rocks at the mouth of the cave. Surprisingly, he was drawn outside, across the sea and away from the treasure.

"The ocean..." he breathed as he drifted across the waves, toward a light in the distance.

"...light..." he reported, the sound of the waves drumming against the rocks behind him quickly giving way to the soft sigh of the wind as he was borne over the sea, to the source of the light. Abruptly, the light appeared to contract in on itself and burst, showering Arthur with sparks that erupted like a geyser from the surface of the black stone. He blinked as they kissed his face, bouncing from the stone and back up at him again. They danced along the floor of his cabin for a while before returning to the stone and vanishing. He watched as a lapping sound caught his ears, amplified in his mind's eye.

"A...ship?" he questioned, watching as he was suddenly drawn upward from the surface of the ocean and into the sky. The black outline of a ship lay beneath him, sails unfurled as it made its way over to the island. It was a rather large ship, Arthur reasoned, trying to get a better look at the hull for a name. A flicker of light to his right caught his attention, a pinprick. He looked on as he was suddenly thrown into it--an island, with long docks stretching out from the craggy stones.

"Hortensia," he stated as his eyes began to drift and become unfocused. He was suddenly borne over the island, out into the sea where his own ship lay in front of him, with one mast broken.

"...the...Tern..." he mumbled as a loud clapping noise made him jump. He watched as he suddenly was lurched upward, into the sky, and was hurled helplessly through oblivion. The lights returned, skittering past him like shooting stars as he fell through the blackness.

"...lights?" he said quietly as they abruptly stopped and curled in around his face, illuminating a path across the sea before him in a dim halo. He was suddenly whisked across the sea, toward a ship heading for that island with the cave, only...it wasn't.

"It changed course," he breathed, noting with a jolt that the ship was headed directly for Hortensia, sails flapping loudly in the wind as it continued--

"Hola, mi amigo," a sinister voice said, bouncing around in his skull. Arthur tried to pull himself out of his trance, but found it difficult, "You know, it's rude to stare," the voice added. Arthur cried out as a searing pain shot across his head, from one temple to the other.

"See you soon, Kirkland," the voice jeered as Arthur tumbled out of the obsidian and onto the floor of his cabin, clutching at his head in agony.

* * *

"Arthur! Are you all right?" Alfred cried as he ran to his side. Arthur barely registered what the other man was saying as his head swam. It was as if he had gotten a concussion all over again. White splotches danced across his vision as he lay on the floor in a heap, cradling his throbbing head in his hands.

"Arthur, talk to me," Alfred called worriedly.

"Just...gimme a minute," Arthur muttered as he slammed his eyes closed and took a few deep breaths. Spic son of a bitch...it was like he had climbed right inside of Arthur's skull and slammed his fists into its walls from within. He felt violated, and it made him sick.

"Okay..." he breathed, slowly hoisting himself into a sitting position. Alfred looked at him worriedly, blue eyes wide in the light of the single candle on the floor. "I'm okay, Alfred," he assured him, reaching out and touching his knee.

"You certainly didn't look okay," Alfred protested, "What the hell was that about? What's going on? What's _this_?" he blurted as he gestured toward the obsidian slab on the floor. Arthur sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"I was Scrying," he explained. Alfred looked at him and threw up his hands in response, "It's...it's a way of seeing what's going on...divination. Tracking people down, finding things, things like that. Sometimes you can even glimpse the future, if you know what you're doing,"

"So...you were...looking into that thing," Alfred reasoned as he pointed toward the obsidian again, "to see...what, exactly?"

"I was trying to find that Spic bastard, and it's called a Scrying plate," Arthur answered. Alfred's eyebrows shot up into his hairline.

"Why?" he pressed, "I thought you said we had another day to get ahead of him," he said with a worried frown.

"I think we still do," Arthur reasoned with a sigh of relief, "But he's definitely coming at us, and he knows we're at Hortensia,"

"Why were you mumbling like that?" Alfred asked suddenly, "You weren't making any sense,"

"It's...part of the whole thing," Arthur explained, "I need to induce a trance-like state, or it won't work. It's like...using my own voice to draw myself in deeper--" he paused, frowning, "This probably doesn't make any sense to you at all, does it?" he added with a bitter smile as Alfred frowned uncertainly at him.

"You were hypnotizing yourself?" Alfred deduced.

"I guess so, yes," Arthur figured with a nod.

"So you saw everything that you mentioned," Alfred continued, "The...lights, and ships and things,"

He waited for Arthur to nod quietly before continuing.

"All right, so...what exactly does that all mean?" he pried. Arthur frowned, looking over at the other man thoughtfully before responding.

"He's changed course," Arthur said gravely, "Was heading for our gold, but now he's heading for our ship instead. He's not after the treasure as much as he is the Tern,"

"And what happened at the end, there?" Alfred asked worriedly, "How's your head?" he added, scooting next to him and touching Arthur's head gingerly. Arthur winced, and he quickly retracted his hand.

"S-sorry," Alfred hissed apologetically.

"It's fine," Arthur mumbled, "It's going away--it'll be gone shortly," he reassured him.

"So what was at the end?" Alfred repeated, putting his hand on Arthur's arm.

"The son of a bitch spoke to me," Arthur growled, shaking his head.

"And that's...bad," Alfred guessed. Arthur looked at him, frowning.

"It's not just bad, it's bloody impossible," Arthur explained, "It was like he crawled inside my goddamn head, Alfred, like he was speaking from inside of my mind,"

Alfred stared at him in horror, stealing a look over at the obsidian slab and turning back toward Arthur again.

"What did he say?" Alfred asked quietly.

"Told me it was rude to stare and that he'd see me soon," Arthur grumbled, "Smug son of a bitch," he hissed, scowling.

"What does that mean, though?" Alfred asked, "If that's impossible, how is he doing it?"

Arthur sighed, putting his face in his hands and rubbing his eyes.

"I'm not sure, except there's some magic going on that I don't understand," Arthur said quickly as he got to his feet. He wobbled, but recovered quickly.

"Where're you going?" Alfred asked as he got to his feet as well.

"I've got to tell Pearl," Arthur said absently as he headed for the cabin door.

"I'm coming with you," Alfred said as he went to follow him, but Arthur held him back.

"No, I want you to stay right here," Arthur said, "I'll be right back--just hold tight until then," he said hurriedly. Alfred protested, but Arthur was hearing none of it.

"Fine, but I'm at least going out onto the deck," Alfred snapped. Arthur conceded to this, allowing him to walk to the longboat with him and watch him descend into the ocean. Alfred sighed as he watched Arthur row toward Hortensia, frowning. What the hell kind of mess had he gotten himself into, he wondered? And who exactly was this Fernández Carriedo, who wielded what Arthur had deemed impossible magic and was able to climb into other men's heads?

"Where's he going?" Mat asked as he walked right up next to him.

Alfred shrieked and slammed up against the railing in fright. The first mate held his hands up in mock-surrender, chuckling.

"Sorry, didn't mean to spook you," he apologized lightly as Alfred glared at him, "So where's he off to?" Mat asked, gesturing toward Arthur's longboat with his head.

"Said he had to do something," Alfred answered cryptically as he waited for his heart to stop pounding. Damn, that man was quiet when he wanted to be. Invisible, almost. Mat raised an eyebrow at him suspiciously.

"Everything all right?" he pried.

"Yeah," Alfred lied. Mat gave him a look for a few moments before sighing heavily and leaning on the railing beside him.

"All right, what's going on?" he asked.

"Nothing," Alfred insisted, "He just said he had to go see someone,"

"...someone?" Mat said, and Alfred wished he would learn when to keep his mouth shut, "Someone as in Pearl?" he added. Alfred looked at him in surprise as Mat grinned slyly.

"How the hell did you know that?" he blurted. The first mate laughed quietly and rolled his shoulders.

"I've been his friend for years," Mat stated, "It's gotten to the point where I can guess some things," he frowned thoughtfully, "But not everything,"

Alfred looked at him, waiting for him to continue. After a few awkward moments, he did.

"So what happened? Was he Scrying again?" he asked quietly, looking around to make sure nobody else was within earshot.

"Yeah," Alfred answered equally as quietly, "And...it didn't go well,"

"How's that?" Mat pressed.

"He was trying to find that Spanish guy," Alfred said, lowering his voice so he rivaled Mat for who spoke softer, "Said he heard his voice from inside of his head,"

Mat had gone completely silent, staring at Alfred with furrowed brows.

"Inside of his head?" he repeated incredulously, "What?"

"He said he could hear the man's voice in his head," Alfred answered with a shrug, "Said he told him he'd see him soon, and then his head hurt so damn bad that he fell on the floor--"

"Whoa, whoa," Mat interrupted, "He was injured? Did you check his pupils?"

"Erm, no," Alfred squeaked as Mat tsked disapprovingly.

"Stupid man," he muttered, looking out at Arthur's longboat, "Gets his injury re-injured and then what does he do? Jumps into a goddamn boat. Because that makes total sense," he added sarcastically as he shook his head. "Hope he doesn't have an aneurysm or something," he mumbled; Alfred bit his lip nervously.

"So then what?" Mat asked.

"He said he had to go tell Pearl," Alfred shrugged, "But what would she have to do with any of this?" he added. Mat frowned and turned back to face the ocean, his expression stern.

"...Mat?" Alfred pried.

"She's good at Scrying, too," Mat mumbled, "Almost as good as Arthur, and he's really good at this occult stuff. Something must've happened to her when Scrying for him to panic like that,"

"She does that too?" Alfred blurted, suddenly wondering what kind of people he had gotten mixed up with. Still, he thought with a small grin, it didn't matter if Arthur turned out to be Satan himself--he still wouldn't dream of leaving him.

Mat nodded, looking over at Alfred and shrugging.

"Some people have a knack for it," he reasoned, "I don't...kind of glad that I don't, actually," he added with a bitter grin, "Although it's served Arthur well. That's how we've found some of the treasure we've managed to hunt down,"

" _That's_ how Arthur finds it?" Alfred blurted.

"Not entirely," Mat reasoned, "He's also an excellent navigator, if you hadn't noticed. Knows these seas like the back of his hand, where the merchant ship'sll be headed, and where they might fuck up and beach themselves or something so we can scrounge up what's left," he added with a sly grin.

"But...this time around, he used Scrying? For this treasure we're getting ready to go get?" Alfred asked curiously.

"Yeah, I think so," Mat sighed, running his hands through his bangs, "That explains why Fernández Carriedo knows where it is as well, anyhow. He's not too bad at this Scrying stuff either, from what I understand,"

"So now what?" Alfred asked after a few moments of awkward silence.

"I guess we just have to wait for him to come back," Mat said with a shrug, "That's the only way we'll be able to tell what's going on,"

Alfred nodded glumly, looking out at Hortensia and sighing.

* * *

Antonio laughed as he stepped out of his trance, slamming his hand onto the dresser in delight. He had gotten him that time, he was certain of it. Kirkland had looked positively stunned, green eyes wide with shock before being abruptly disconnected. Must've damn near fallen on the floor after that one, he figured. Oh, it was delicious. Served that English bastard right.

He quieted down and slid his fingers along the smooth stone in his pocket. He could have sworn it felt hot, like a flame was welling within it. It did this whenever he was Seeing and it was on his person, he noticed, and it amplified his abilities nicely. He was glad he had found it--well, Lovino had been the one to discover it, technically, but still. Some kind of New World magic, he figured...hadn't really thought much of it other than it caught his eye, but that was before he had left it in his pocket while Scrying. He had actually been able to see someone else on the other side of the mirror. Not himself, not a vision--another person entirely, who was also Seeing. It had scared the hell out of him at first, causing him to abruptly break his concentration in a panic. But, after some time and consideration, he had tried it again. The experience had been...unreal.

Instead of merely watching hazy images dart across the mirror's surface, he was able to interact with them. It was as if he had become part of them, even master of them at times. He had been overjoyed when he had managed to conjure up an image of his own design in the mirror, a tiny golden bull prancing across the mirror's surface and leaping out of it before disappearing. He could see lines, narrow strands of what looked like golden thread lashed across the surface of the glass. Upon following one of them, it had led to a strange woman. The other had led directly to Kirkland. Now all that remained was to try and get those images of his onto those golden threads, to get people to see what he wanted them to see, but Scrying took a lot out of him. He felt close to collapse after every session, especially with that stone sinking heavily in the pocket of his jacket. He pulled it out, admiring its glassy surface.

It was a strange color--a mix of green and blue, oblong in shape and perfectly smooth. It glinted wickedly in the light of the candles in his cabin, eerily reflecting his image back at him. He found himself wondering what else it could enable him to do. Hell, conjuring up that storm a few weeks prior had been incredible. It was like he just envisioned the storm happening, and it came to life. A turbulent monsoon that he could see through his mirror, a raging black cloud on the open sea as his vessel lay safely anchored by an outcropping of rocks. He chuckled; all they had gotten was a little rain. Of course, he hadn't managed to stay conscious for long enough to actually witness the storm causing any damage, as he had supposedly collapsed onto the floor in a heap. Lovino had been the one to wake him up, slapping his face and yelling at him until he came to. He frowned--that was the part of this stone that he didn't like, like it sapped his strength each time he used it. But, he reasoned with a satisfied smirk, now he was certain the storm had done what he had intended.

"What the hell...?" he muttered as he saw something dark flash across the stone's surface. A shadow? Must be a trick of the light, he figured to himself as he rolled the stone over in his palms. Funny, how such a small thing could hold such power...

"Hey, Captain? Hellooo? You all right?" someone called.

"W..what?" Antonio slurred, blinking. He found himself staring at the stone in his hands, only he wasn't in his cabin. He looked up--he was standing on the bow of the ship. Not on the deck, but literally on the tip of the bow, staring out over the bowsprit. He jumped and took an anxious step backward, landing clumsily into the ship. He quickly picked himself up and whirled around--his entire crew was out on the deck, staring at him.

"You all right?" the voice from earlier repeated. One of the Italian sailors stepped forward, opening one amber-colored eye to look at him worriedly, "What were you doing up there, anyway?" Feliciano asked.

"I...I was..." Antonio stammered, panic welling up in him as he hurriedly pocketed the stone, "Just testing the wind, boys," he lied, "We're looking good--we'll be caught up to that goddamn Brit in no time,"

A few sailors murmured amongst themselves, but most remained silent. Antonio frowned at the lot of them, folding his hands over his chest.

"Well? What are you all looking at? Get to work!" he ordered. The crew jumped, muttered some hurried "Yes, Cap'n"s, and went about their tasks. Antonio stood tall, putting up a convincing front as he broke into a cold sweat. What the hell had happened? How had he ended up there? He didn't even recall leaving his cabin, let alone climbing up onto the railing.

"You never answered my question," Feliciano said pointedly as he approached, his brother in-tow. Lovino looked positively livid, cheeks flushed with rage.

"You idiot! _Bastardo_!" Lovino shrieked as he jabbed his finger into Antonio's chest, "What were you thinking?!" he demanded furiously.

"I'm fine, Feliciano, thank you," Antonio lied, "And Lovino, I told you, I was just--"

"Don't lie to me," the older brother snapped as he clapped a hand onto his forehead, "You're freezing," he declared, "Get back to the cabin," he ordered as he and his brother got behind the captain and began pushing him off of the quarterdeck.

"Stop it!" Antonio hissed as he broke free from them, "I can walk, you know," he snapped as he began making his way toward the back of the ship. Lovino walked alongside him, eyeing him worriedly as Feliciano returned to whatever he had been doing. Antonio tried to hide his rising panic as he walked into his cabin and sank onto his bed.

"Here, lay down," Lovino said as he closed the door behind him, "You'll warm up in no time," he added quietly as he half-dragged the captain beneath his blankets. Antonio offered no resistance, as he was too busy wrestling with his thoughts. The last thing he remembered was Scrying, and scaring the pants off of Kirkland. Then, he...he...

A pair of lovely hazel eyes suddenly popped up directly in his line of vision as Lovino inspected him worriedly.

"Lovino, I'm fine," he insisted.

"Shut up," Lovino snapped as he tucked the blankets around Antonio, "There. How's that?"

"Bueno," Antonio answered quietly. A few moments of awkward silence passed before he finally spoke again, "What...happened?" he asked hesitantly. Lovino sighed, frowning down at Antonio worriedly.

"That's what I'd like to know," he admitted, "You acted like you weren't even awake,"

"What?" Antonio asked, frowning.

"You just walked straight up the deck, muttering some nonsense in some weird language, looking down at your hands," Lovino explained with a shrug, "Then before I could catch you, up onto the bow you went. What were you talking about, anyway? I kept calling you, but you acted like you couldn't hear me,"

"...I was talking?" Antonio asked quietly, blinking in confusion.

"Yeah, and it wasn't in Spanish," Lovino added pointedly, raising an eyebrow for emphasis, "What is it you were looking at--?" he added, then frowned knowingly.

"Give me it," Lovino ordered, putting his hand out.

"Give you what?" Antonio inquired innocently.

"Don't play dumb with me!" Lovino shouted, "That damned stone!"

"Ah, but I don't think that's necessary, Mi Vida--"

"Don't you 'Mi Vida' me!" Lovino snapped, ripping the blankets off of him and reaching for the pockets of his jacket. Antonio squirmed out of his grasp, but Lovino threw himself on top of him and kept him in-place. They struggled as Lovino swore at him, slapping his wrists away as Antonio tried to shove the Italian off of him.

"This is for your own good!" Lovino insisted, "I'm just trying to--a-ahh..." he stammered as Antonio's hand found the curled strand of hair dangling from his widow's peak. He teased at the strand, running his index finger up and down its spiral as Lovino softly moaned, eyes falling half-closed and cheeks flushing. Antonio took the opportunity to push the Italian onto the mattress and dash over to the other end of his cabin. He removed the stone from his pocket and threw it into his trunk, grabbing the key and locking it with a definitive click. Lovino, meanwhile, had since recovered and was stalking toward him angrily.

"Oh, sure!" he shouted, "You think hiding it in a chest is gonna stop me from getting rid of it, eh? I'll throw the whole goddamn chest overboard if that's what it takes!" he cried indignantly as he tried to wrestle the key from Antonio's grasp. Though shorter than Antonio, he was surprisingly strong.

"Ow!" Antonio yelped as Lovino slammed his hand against the side of his table, causing his fist to fall open with a thud. The key tinkled daintily out onto the floor, bouncing a few times before landing. Antonio attempted to retrieve it, but Lovino latched onto his shoulders and pulled him backward. They tumbled to the floor with a loud thunk. Antonio crawled forward pitifully, clawing at the floorboards and cursing as Lovino pulled him back.

"Stoppit!" Antonio growled as the other man grabbed hold of his outstretched hand and abruptly flipped him onto his back, straddling him triumphantly.

"HA!" Lovino declared as he pinned Antonio's wrists to the floor on either side of him, "There: I win," he declared.

"L-Lovino--"

"Shut up," Lovino hissed, hazel eyes flashing dangerously, "Don't you know what this thing's doing to you?" he asked quietly, "You've been acting strange ever since you used that damned thing for Seeing! And that...storm..." he trailed off, shaking his head, "You hardly eat, barely sleep, and now _this_?" he practically whispered, his voice cracking. He shook his head vehemently, setting his jaw.

"Mi Vid--"

"No!" Lovino cried as he cut him off, "No, Antonio, I am not going to sit here and watch you destroy yourself. You hear me? I'm going to save you--even if you hate me for it!"

Antonio blinked up at him, stunned, as Lovino stared down at him defiantly. Those eyes were positively blazing with emotion, with passion. He found himself overwhelmed, unable to speak. His body, however, had other ideas. He moaned breathily, arching his back.

"...Antonio...?" Lovino asked quietly as he cautiously leaned down, his lips meeting Antonio's eager ones. Lovino sank onto him then, releasing his wrists. They broke from one another, breathless, and stared into each other's eyes again.

"Lo siento, mi amor," Antonio breathed as he kissed him again, running his hands along Lovino's back. The Italian shuddered, breaking the kiss and scooting up so Antonio could nip at his neck and chest.

"I'm w-worried about you, tomato bastard," Lovino whispered between gasps, enthusiastically pushing his body into the other's advances. He gasped as Antonio began unbuttoning his shirt, running his lips eagerly across the Italian's exposed flesh. Lovino sighed in satisfaction as he grabbed Antonio by the waist and rolled him on top of him. Antonio looked down at him uncertainly, dazzling green eyes glinting with lust.

"I know you are," Antonio whispered, "I'm sorry," he added softly.

"Good," Lovino whispered back, lacing his fingers behind Antonio's lower back and drawing him down with a soft sigh, "Now prove it,"

* * *

It was about an hour later when Arthur returned. The sun had gone down, leaving only a red line along the horizon in its wake. Alfred and Mat awaited him on the deck as he climbed over the railing and onto the ship.

"Evenin', Captain," Mat greeted, "A word, please?" he added, gesturing toward Arthur's cabin. Arthur looked from him, then to Alfred, and back again before nodding. They didn't say anything until the door to Arthur's cabin was securely closed behind them.

"All right, Arthur," Mat began as he walked in and pulled one of Arthur's chairs out, "What's going on?" he asked, frowning at the slab of obsidian lying neatly on the floor, "And can we get some light in here, please?" he added.

"I got it," Alfred offered as he grabbed the other chair and set it down beneath the lantern in the center of the ceiling.

"So...we've got a bit of a problem," Arthur sighed as Alfred struck the flint, trying to get a spark to light the stupid lantern.

"So I hear," Mat said as he sank into the other chair, "How's your head?"

"Fine," Arthur said dismissively. Alfred cursed as he dropped the flint and it tumbled onto the floor. He scrounged around for it in the dim light, cussing under his breath.

"Why the rush to see Pearl?" Mat asked, "Is she all right?"

"For now, yeah," Arthur answered glumly, "But he scared the hell outta her, though,"

"...you mean the Spic?" Mat deduced. Alfred grinned as he finally located the flint and went back to lighting the lantern.

"Yeah," Arthur answered with a growl, "Son of a bitch's face popped up in the middle of her Scrying session, scared her half to death. I told her what just happened, though, so she won't be trying it any time soon. I'm guessing Alfred told you?"

Alfred didn't look, but he assumed Mat had nodded as he continued their conversation.

"But how did he manage that?" Mat asked as Alfred finally got a spark to ignite. He grinned to himself as the lantern sprang to life, enveloping the cabin in a soft orange glow. He hurriedly got off of the chair and brought it over to the table. Mat was seated in front of Arthur, who was leaning on the table tiredly. He looked up and threw him a tired smile as Alfred plunked the chair down next to Mat and took a seat.

"Thanks, Alfred," Mat said absently as he stood up and inspected Arthur's head, "Take yer hat off," he said. Arthur rolled his eyes, but obeyed. Mat seemed to think everything was in order, as he sat back down without further comment.

"To answer your question, Mat, I have absolutely no idea," Arthur sighed as he folded his arms over his chest, "But the sooner we get the Tern up 'n' running, the better,"

"Sure, but what are you planning on doing once he catches up to us?" Mat asked quietly, cocking an eyebrow at him and blowing his curly strand of hair out of his face.

"Well, if everything goes according to plan, he won't," Arthur muttered.

"And...if everything doesn't?" Alfred asked quietly. Arthur raised an eyebrow at him, frowning.

"He's got a point, Arthur," Mat agreed, nodding at Alfred, "That's still a distinct possibility,"

Arthur exhaled, staring at the opposite end of the room. Alfred watched him nervously as he furrowed his eyebrows, frowning in concentration.

"It won't matter as far as tomorrow goes," he said finally, "We still need to get the mast in order,"

"True," Mat agreed, "But you're assuming we have a day's lead on him if everything fits together properly and we get moving right away,"

Arthur snapped his attention toward Mat then, green eyes filled with disdain.

"Thought you said we had everything ready to go, save for the mast," he said flatly.

"Aye, we do," Mat said, arching an eyebrow at him challengingly, "But if something goes wrong when we're getting everything together--"

"Well, it won't," Arthur said sharply as he began pacing around the room. Alfred stole a look at Mat, who shook his head and turned in his seat to follow Arthur.

"And how do you know that? More Scrying?" Mat asked flatly.

"No," Arthur said pointedly as he pivoted and began walking back toward them, "I have faith in my crew that the tasks will be completed correctly...don't you?" he asked, raising his eyebrows at him accusingly.

"Of course I do," Mat snapped, "But I'm just SAYING there is a possibility that we might not be ready to head out to open water by tomorrow evening. If that were to happen--which it might not--I want to know what you plan to do about it. That's all I'm saying,"

The captain was silent for a moment, nodding at Mat and returning to his pacing.

"If it comes to a fight, I'm not afraid to fight 'im," Arthur said finally as he reached the opposite end of the room and stared at the door, "We have enough artillery to put up one hell of a struggle, anyhow, if he comes at us while we're anchored,"

Alfred gulped, watching Arthur nervously. He turned around and paced back toward him and Mat, his expression stern.

"We stand a better chance if we're attacked once we're at sea," Arthur reasoned, "Then we'll be able to give 'im a proper fight," he added with a wicked smirk. Alfred shuddered.

Mat seemed pleased by his answer nodding slowly as he adjusted his spectacles.

"One more thing," Mat said quietly, "You...ah," he faltered, rubbing his temples tiredly. Arthur tilted his head at him, waiting patiently for him to finish.

Mat looked up as he threw his hands into the air haphazardly.

"You don't think he had anything to do with that storm, do you?" he blurted. Arthur looked positively stunned, green eyes widening as he stared at his first mate in shock.

"W-what?" Alfred stammered, looking at Mat worriedly, "You can't be serious,"

Mat looked at him, licked his lips nervously, then turned back toward Arthur.

"I'm not sure," Arthur answered finally, frowning and walking back over to the table, "Bloody hell, Mat, I hope you're wrong," he added darkly as he leaned against the table and folded his arms.

"So do I," Mat said quietly, "In the meantime, though...I'll make sure the gents are prepared to work at the crack of dawn. Everything'll be ready to go by the time those masts get here,"

"Thanks, Mat," Arthur said, nodding at him as his first mate got out of his seat, "And, of course, not a word about this to the others until we figure out what the hell is happening," he added.

"Of course," Mat agreed, nodding.

"That goes for you too, Alfred," Arthur added sternly. Alfred turned to look at him--his expression was grave, green eyes wary, but tired.

"Right, I won't say a thing," Alfred promised.

"All right, then," Arthur sighed as he stood up, "That's all for now, Mat,"

"Right," Mat said as he headed for the cabin door, "Oh, and Arthur?"

"Yes?" Arthur asked.

"No more of that shit," Mat ordered, pointing toward the Scrying plate on the floor, "Put that thing away,"

"Mat, I'm not a child," Arthur warned.

"And _I'm_ not an idiot," Mat said right back, grinning a little, "Besides, the last thing I need is for you to bring your occult stuff in here and use up all of my herbs again,"

Arthur grinned crookedly and shook his head.

"Fine," he conceded as Mat headed outside. Alfred eyed the captain warily as he slowly walked over to the Scrying plate and carefully picked it up.

"Ah, what a fine mess I'm in now, eh?" Arthur teased as he opened the trunk beneath the table and took out a tattered blue cloth.

"You mean what a fine mess we're _both_ in now," Alfred corrected, watching Arthur wrap the Scrying plate carefully in the blue fabric. He paused and looked up at Alfred, blinking at him a few times. Alfred sighed, getting out of his chair and crouching down next to him.

"Your problems are my problems now, you know," he said as he grinned at Arthur.

"Alfred--" Arthur started to protest, but the other man cut him off by shaking his head.

"Nope," Alfred insisted, "And don't try to tell me that they're not, either," he added as he pecked him on the cheek. Arthur blushed, smiling sweetly as he placed the wrapped Scrying plate into his trunk and closed it.

"Thanks, Love," he said quietly as he turned back toward him. Alfred took the captain's face in both of his and kissed him softly on the lips, watching Arthur's eyes fall closed happily.

"Remember what you said about how I can talk to you anytime, about anything?" Alfred reminded him as they separated.

"Yeah," Arthur nodded.

"That's a two-way street, Arthur," Alfred said pointedly as he stood up, "And I won't say a thing to the crew, if that's what you're worried about," he added.

"I trust you," Arthur insisted as he stood as well.

"Great. Then talk to me, okay?" Alfred said as he took one of Arthur's hands into his.

"I will," Arthur promised, squeezing Alfred's hand gently, "I will, after I have some time to think about all of...this," he said, throwing his arm into the air haphazardly.

"Okay," Alfred agreed as he reached into his pocket, "But first...close your eyes,"

"Huh?" Arthur asked, cocking an eyebrow at him as Alfred released his grip on his hand.

"Just do it," Alfred laughed, "I think it'll make you feel a little better,"

"...all right..." Arthur said with an air of suspicion as he allowed his eyes to fall closed, "Now what?" he asked.

"Put out your hand," Alfred instructed. Arthur did so, smirking.

"What the hell is this?" Arthur laughed, "If you hand me a snake or something, I'm going to be angry," he warned.

"Oh, stop," Alfred teased as he fished the beads from his pocket. The glass beads clinked together softly as he retrieved them and gently placed them in Arthur's outstretched hand. Arthur opened his eyes and looked down--his eyes lit up with emerald sparks as a genuine smile crept over his face.

"What is _this_?" he breathed, picking the string of beads up and holding them up to the lantern light.

"Do you like them?" Alfred asked sheepishly, watching Arthur examine the beads and turn them over in his hands.

"I love them," Arthur said as he grabbed Alfred and squeezed him tightly, "Thank you, Alfred,"

"You're welcome," Alfred said quietly, smiling as Arthur leaned down to kiss him. Alfred returned the gesture enthusiastically.

"They're beautiful, Love," Arthur praised, "Can't wait to put 'em on my hat,"

"I figured you might," Alfred said with a shrug, "And they kind of go with your jacket," he added, suddenly feeling foolish and blushing furiously. Arthur noted his embarrassment and laughed, ruffling his hair playfully (but not touching the cowlick).

"Thank you," he repeated with a handsome smile, "You're wonderful, Alfred,"

Alfred smiled as Arthur excused himself and walked outside, clutching the beads in his right fist as he left.

* * *

Author's Notes: "Mi vida" literally translates to "my life," and is a term of endearment like "my darling."

"Lo siento, mi amor" - "I'm sorry, my love,"

"Bueno" - "good"


	13. Chapter 13

Antonio cracked one eye open where he lay on the floor of his cabin, looking around cautiously. It was early morning, he guessed, based on the dim light filtering in from the windows. He paused, opening the other eye and trying to piece together the events of the previous night. He jumped as someone mumbled--Lovino was sprawled out on his chest, asleep.

_Oh_. That was right.

He felt his face reddening as he grinned, recalling exactly how he had ended up on the floor. Lovino was prone to bouts of rage at times, but he was an excellent lover when he put his mind to it. And he certainly had last night, Antonio thought with an excited jolt. He was perceptive, sensual...and damn irresistible. Antonio had to admit, he was putty in the Italian's hands.

But...

He frowned, looking over at where his trunk lay a few paces away. That tiny stone was in there, its smooth surface glinting innocently where it lay imprisoned. He fought the urge to jump up and retrieve it, knowing it might wake Lovino up. He sighed as he ran his hand through his bangs, weighing his options. Perhaps the stone wasn't a good idea. Maybe Lovino was right: maybe it was changing him, making him act strangely. But it was the only weapon he had that was sure to destroy Kirkland, the one advantage he could hold over him and render him powerless. He just needed a little more practice, he was certain of it. He would have no need for it after he took care of business, right?

He smiled as Lovino muttered something into his chest and snuggled closer to him...something about tomatoes, as far as Antonio could tell. He lovingly put his hand on the Italian's back, resolving to destroy the stone after Kirkland was out of the picture. He would even let Lovino do it if he so desired, seeing as its presence disturbed him so.

"Just a little longer, Mi Vida," he whispered into Lovino's hair, "Just a little longer,"

* * *

Alfred must have fallen asleep while waiting for Arthur to return. The next thing he knew it was just before dawn, and he was tucked into the bed he hadn't recalled crawling into the night before. He yawned, sitting up and looking over at Arthur's side of the bed. It was empty, as the captain was already up and fully dressed. He stood on the other side of the room, poring over his navigational charts with a studious frown.

"Rise and shine, Love," Arthur said as he threw Alfred a tired smile.

"Did you sleep?" Alfred blurted.

"...a little," Arthur said with a shrug as he returned to his charts.

"Arthur, come on," Alfred scolded as he climbed out of bed and walked over toward him. He rolled his aching shoulders as he approached, "What're you doing?" he asked.

"Checking a few things," Arthur answered cryptically as he pulled out his pocket watch and flipped it open, "But...I think I ought to get outside and see about that mast," he added as he stretched and poorly stifled a yawn. Alfred looked at him disapprovingly as he blocked the captain's path to the door. Arthur sighed, placing his hands on Alfred's shoulders.

"I'm fine, Alfred," he insisted, "I just needed some time to think last night, that's all,"

"And...what do you think?" Alfred pressed, "About that storm?"

Arthur frowned, shaking his head.

"I can't rule it out, considering," he admitted, "But I still think our best chance is to get this ship in sailing condition as soon as possible,"

Alfred nodded slowly as Arthur leaned forward and kissed him on his forehead.

"Hey, the beads," Alfred noted happily as the items in Arthur's hat tinkled together softly. The beads he had bought were securely attached and dangling over the brim, delicately catching the dim light.

"Yeah, I put 'em in last night," he muttered with a sheepish grin, "How's it look?" he added playfully.

"Great," Alfred declared as Arthur smiled and released his grip on his shoulders.

Alfred got dressed and quickly followed Arthur out onto the deck. The sun was just rising over the horizon, a thin sliver of yellow light peering over the edge of the sea. Most of the other crewmen were out on deck, nibbling on breakfast and chatting quietly amongst themselves.

"Mornin' Captain, Alfred," Mat greeted as he walked toward the two of them.

"How are we looking?" Arthur asked. Mat pushed his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose studiously.

"Just need to get the masts," Mat answered with a shrug.

"I'll go," Alfred volunteered despite his achy body's protests. Mat clapped a hand on his shoulder and shook his head.

"No need. I already sent out Sam out with a group. They ought to be back any minute now," Mat explained with a kind smile.

"Nice work, Mat," Arthur praised as he looked out over the railing. Alfred noted that he looked quite tired, but refrained from saying anything about it.

"Eh, I try," Mat said with a shrug as he smirked, "You've got time to grab a bite to eat if you hurry," he added, looking at Alfred pointedly as he headed down the deck.

"You want something?" Alfred asked.

"No thanks, Love," Arthur muttered absently as he stared out at the sea. The ocean was glistening with what looked like a thousand diamonds scattered across its surface as the sun rose, illuminating the ship's lacquered walls and Arthur's stern face. Alfred looped his arm around the captain's waist, smiling as Arthur put his arm over his shoulders in response.

"It will work out, Arthur," Alfred promised as he looked up at him. Arthur was staring straight ahead, green eyes positively blazing in that morning sunlight.

"I know it will," he sighed as he turned to look back at him, "I just hope it works out in our favor," he added glumly. Alfred was about to say something else as commotion erupted in the main deck--the masts had arrived.

"Aw, shit," he hissed, cursing that he hadn't gone to get breakfast first. Arthur chuckled, rubbing his shoulder sympathetically.

"Sorry, Love," he muttered, "I'll try to sneak you something later," he promised, striding past him and addressing his crew.

Alfred followed, watching as the men on deck feverishly worked to get some kind of pulley system in working order. Ward was in charge, directing the others on what ropes to pull and--

"Oi! Alfred!" someone called.

"Y-yes?" Alfred stammered, looking around. Caleb was frowning at him from the end of one of several ropes attached to the pulley.

"Gimme a hand here, will ya?" he said, gesturing for him to come forward.

"Right!" Alfred squeaked as he rushed forward to help.

* * *

Arthur tugged on the rope, straining against it as what was to be the topgallant mast swung over the edge of the railing and landed safely onto the deck. He frowned, looking up at the sky--probably around six-thirty by now, he figured. He prayed the rest of the process went as smoothly as this phase was coming along. He stole a look at the others--Alfred was scurrying about, taking orders from Ward and trying his damndest to be useful. The others appeared to be hustling as well, much to his relief. They might get out of this one yet.

"Mornin,' Cap'n," a gravelly voice said from his immediate left. Arthur turned; Barnes and five of his men were standing beside him.

"Ah, Mr. Barnes," Arthur greeted as he let go of the now limp rope and nodded his head respectfully. Barnes and the others returned the gesture. Four of them were in what Arthur assumed were their mid to late teens, burly-looking things with unruly brown hair that resembled Barnes's. The fifth chap was a quiet one, his head and face mostly obscured by a tattered brown scarf.

"That mast'll be up in no time, Cap'n--my boys 'n' I will see to that," Barnes reassured him with a nearly toothless grin.

"Good," Arthur said curtly as they excused themselves and got to work. Arthur sighed, quietly hoping to himself that he was right.

Turned out, he was. Arthur handed Barnes the other half of the agreed payment excitedly, shaking his hand and watching him whistle for his comrades to join him as he hoisted himself over the railing toward where their boat awaited. Arthur smiled, watching his men work feverishly on installing the booms and sails.

"Excellent work, gents!" he praised, putting his hands on his hips as he called up to them. Ward remained at the base of the mast, his gnarled fingers pointing up at where Alfred, Tom, George, and Sam were entwined in the netting. Alfred flashed a smile at him that made his heart flutter as the others nodded enthusiastically or grinned at him.

"Thanks, Cap'n!" Ward wheezed, "George--that damn boom needs to be moved over--no, not THAT way, THAT way!"

"WHAT way?" George growled as he glared down at Ward angrily.

"Over here," Alfred corrected from above him, pushing the rope hoisting the boom aloft slightly to the left.

"There we go!" Ward praised, "Wasn't so hard, was it?" he scolded.

"What's next, Ward?" Tom asked dryly, clearly tired of them arguing.

"All right, now you just..."

* * *

Alfred leaned against the railing tiredly, grateful to be in the shade. Tom rested next to him, wiping his sweaty brow with the back of his hand. They had managed to get the booms up and ready to go--now all that remained was to put the sails in place. Smitty, Gil, Caleb, and Jon had been assigned to that task under Mat's supervision, as were several other gents whose names escaped Alfred for the moment. All he cared about was getting out of the goddamn sun. He looked up as pronounced footsteps approached from his right.

"Afternoon, Cap'n," Tom slurred tiredly as Arthur approached.

"Afternoon," Arthur greeted as he handed a tray of food to Alfred, "Here, eat up--make sure George 'n' Sam get something, too," he mumbled under his breath, seemingly embarrassed.

"Thanks!" Alfred said cheerily as he and Tom eagerly dug into the contents of the plate.

"Thanks, Cap'n," Tom said around a mouthful of bread.

"You did well--everything looks great," Arthur said as he looked up at the mast fondly, "Just needs sails and we're outta here," he added hopefully.

"Where to next?" Alfred meant to ask, but all that came out was a muffled string of nonsense as he tried to eat and speak at the same time. Arthur raised an eyebrow at him as he hurriedly swallowed.

"Sorry--where to next?" he apologized.

"Treasure-hunting, of course," Tom teased as Sam and George approached. Tom flagged them down and waved a chunk of bread over his head tantalizingly--the two of them practically ran over and gratefully began chowing down.

"Ahh, glorious shade..." George sighed happily as he bit into an apple and warily looked up at Arthur.

"Nice job today, all of you," Arthur praised, waiting for them all to nod at him before heading over to talk to Mat.

"I'll be glad when this shit is finally over with," George grumbled.

"Well, at least we got the booms up," Sam pointed out, "That's half the battle right there,"

"Half the battle?" Tom snorted as he bit a chunk off of a slice of ham, "What about that mast? That took all goddamn day," he pointed out.

"Yeah, but we're almost done," Alfred piped up hopefully. The others muttered in agreement, turning and looking up at the unfinished mast absently.

* * *

Night fell by the time the sails were in place, and Arthur had never been happier to give the order to haul the anchor up. He set them on a course far from Hortensia, toward that cave where treasure surely awaited them. He exhaled as he turned the ship's wheel, closing his eyes and feeling the wind toss his bangs around. The way the prevailing winds were, they should arrive at their intended destination within the week. He had checked his charts--there shouldn't be any major hindrances, aside from foul weather. He frowned; the last thing he needed was another storm like that last one, natural phenomenon or no.

He looked over as Alfred approached from behind him and looked out over the sea.

"Well, we pulled it off," he said with a triumphant grin.

"Yes, we did," Arthur agreed. He had made it a point to convene the crew together and personally thank each one of them for doing his part before dismissing them for the evening. Hopefully most of them just drank their achiness away for the time being and didn't decide to take it out on him. Alfred stretched and plunked down onto the deck beside the wheel.

"Tired?" Arthur teased.

"A little," Alfred admitted as he tried to stifle a yawn and was unsuccessful.

"You can turn in for the night, you know," Arthur pointed out.

"I will, I just want to sit for a while," Alfred insisted, turning and grinning up at him. Arthur nodded, stealing a look down at his compass in the light of the lantern above and adjusting the ship's wheel accordingly. He smiled--things were finally back on track.

* * *

Antonio stared down into the stone in his palm, watching his eyes blink at his reflection lazily as the stone began producing heat from within. Lovino had gotten incredibly upset when he informed him of his decision to hold onto it until after they caught up with the enemy vessel. He had punched him hard in the abdomen before darting out of the cabin in a huff, cursing. It had taken a few moments of Antonio crouched on the floor to catch his breath again, cursing his stupidity in not moving out of the Italian's way fast enough. His heart ached--he hated seeing Lovino upset like this. Still, he reasoned, it was nearly over. Just a few more days, and the two of them could put this all behind them.

He sighed, closing his eyes and clutching the stone possessively to his chest. They had passed Hortensia--Kirkland had already managed to leave. Antonio had to admit, that wasn't an easy feat with a dismasted ship. He couldn't have been there more than a few days before taking off. He frowned--Kirkland always had been one to drive him insane with his narrow misses, his daring escapes...he hated him.

"No daring escape this time, mi amigo," he hissed as he pictured a strong wind in his mind's eye, propelling his ship forward in pursuit. Just a little push was all he needed, and they would catch Kirkland before he arrived at the cave. Perhaps...

He chuckled as a wicked smirk crept across his face.

Oh, that was an even better plan.

Even better than catching him--they'd get to that damned cave first, wait for his men to come ashore, and...

Antonio laughed as the winds outside began to pick up, billowing the sails.

* * *

"All right, come at me," Tom challenged as he raised his fists. Alfred frowned, taking a few steps backward on the deck in preparation. Sam watched from where he leaned against the railing, arms folded across his chest. It was just after sunset, and the men were all gratefully taking a break from the day's work. Someone was playing a fiddle from up on the quarterdeck, though Alfred wasn't sure who.

"Ready," Alfred said to himself as he ran forward and swung his left fist, aiming for Tom's face. He froze as Tom dodged, easily smacked his arm aside, and tapped his other fist against Alfred's exposed side.

"See that?" Tom asked, "You'd be sporting a few fractured ribs if you'd tried that. You've gotta be faster if you're gonna land a hit, and you can't just leave yerself open like that," he added as he stepped away from him.

"Let me try again," Alfred said, licking his lips and backing up to strike again.

"Okay, go ahead," Tom said, grinning.

Alfred ran at him again, lunging forward this time and aiming for the other man's ribs. Tom moved to counter, throwing his arm down and haphazardly aiming his other for Alfred's face. Alfred managed to throw his fist upward, stopping short of hitting Tom in the nose. The other man grinned, brown eyes dancing as he took a step backward.

"Now you're gettin' it," he praised, "Try it once more,"

Alfred stepped backward and lunged forward again, this time aiming for Tom's chest. Tom blocked, dodged, and aimed for Alfred's face. Alfred ducked, shooting his arm out toward Tom's abdomen. Tom blocked it in the nick of time and aimed for Alfred's face once more. Alfred wasn't fast enough and Tom's fist smacked him in the nose before pulling his arm back.

"Whoops!" Tom blurted, "Sorry,"

"It's fine," Alfred muttered, rubbing his nose and adjusting his glasses irritably. It wasn't bleeding, but it did smart.

"That wasn't bad!" Tom said with a grin, "Yer definitely gettin' the hang of it, but you've gotta watch that you don't leave yerself open for attack. See what happened there?"

"Yeah, I do," Alfred answered as he raised his fists, "Again?"

"Sure," Tom laughed, raising his fists as well, "Bring it on,"

Alfred attempted it several more times, always ending up with Tom gaining the upper hand after a few strikes. He and Sam seemed pleased with his progress, however, so he figured he wasn't a total failure.

"Not bad for the first day, Alfred!" Sam praised from the railing, "I think--ARGH!" he shouted as Gil crept up behind him and leapt on top of his shoulders. Sam flailed about, cursing, as the Prussian threw what Alfred assumed was a potato sack over his head and held onto him as Sam staggered around on the deck.

"Get OFF me, you bloody idiot!" Sam growled as he threw Gil off with a loud thunk onto the floor. Gil cackled hysterically, clutching his abdomen as he lay sprawled out on the deck.

"What the hell was that about?" Alfred muttered. Tom snorted, shaking his head.

"Eh, Gil gets a little silly when he's drinkin' sometimes," he said with a shrug as Sam angrily stalked over to the Prussian and threw the potato sack in his face. He said some choice words to him before returning to the railing, cheeks flushed with anger in the light of the dying sun.

"Stupid son of a bitch," he muttered as Tom snickered, "That's not funny," he warned.

"Actually, it is," Tom pointed out as he rolled his shoulders, "But I think that's enough sparring for one day. Same time tomorrow?" he asked as he looked over at Alfred.

"Definitely," Alfred said with a smile.

"You know vhat zis ship needs?" Gil slurred as he clumsily took the burlap off of his face, "An ACCORDION. Vhat kind of pirate ship doesn't have a fuckin' accordion?" he declared, haphazardly throwing his hand into the air for emphasis and slamming it down onto the deck.

"Go to bed, Gil," Mat ordered as he approached from below deck.

"HA!" Gil snorted, "Vhy don't you, Frenchie?"

"For the last time, Gil, I'm _Canadian_. You know, New World?" Mat corrected as he shoved his hands in his pockets and walked over to the railing.

"Eh, same zhing," Gil yawned, rolling over and cradling the burlap to his chest.

"What're you all up to?" Mat asked as he leaned on the railing next to Alfred.

"Alfred's takin' some boxing lessons from us," Sam explained, "And he's not too bad, actually,"

"Heh...thanks," Alfred mumbled, embarrassed.

"Sounds like fun," Mat said as he grinned at him, "Don't maim each other, though--there's work to do tomorrow," he warned as he turned back toward Sam, "I gotta talk to you about the rigging when you've got a minute,"

"Sure," Sam said as a loud snore ripped through the air. Alfred looked over at Gil, who was passed out on the deck and clutching the burlap bag possessively.

"Can I throw him overboard?" Sam asked innocently, "Please, Mat?"

"As tempting as that sounds, I'm afraid I can't allow it," Mat laughed as he shook his head, "I'll let you do the honors, though, if you wanna mess with him a little," he added with a sly grin. Sam's face split into a smile as he retrieved some rope and dragged Gil by the wrists over to the nearby mast.

"Erm...what's he doing?" Alfred asked quietly as Tom burst out laughing.

"Just messing with him a little," Mat said with a grin, his violet eyes glinting with mischief, "That'll teach 'im to lay about drunk,"

Alfred watched as Sam propped Gil up into a sitting position and wrapped the rope around his waist, lashing him to the mast. He started to walk away, paused, grabbed the burlap bag off of the deck, and promptly threw it over Gil's head before returning to the railing. The other three of them had dissolved into laughter at that point, with Tom leaning on the railing for support.

"All right--the rigging?" Mat asked as Sam returned.

"Sounds good," Sam said as Mat led him up to the quarterdeck, muttering something about knots. Tom wiped his eyes on his sleeve as Gil snored loudly once again.

"Oh, that's gonna be hilarious when he wakes up," Tom declared as Alfred laughed, "Make sure you don't oversleep so you can see it," he added mischievously as he headed for the barracks. Alfred shook his head, laughing, as he made his way down to the galley.

* * *

Arthur hadn't been sleeping well over the past couple of days. He had tried, and Alfred had been less than forgiving if he woke up and discovered him out of bed and charting, but nothing was working. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw that damn Spaniard's face leering at him, laughing--smug bastard. He sighed in defeat as Alfred scooted close to him.

"Still can't sleep, hm?" he asked.

"'fraid not," Arthur said glumly.

"Maybe reading a little will help?" Alfred suggested, "That usually puts me out,"

"...maybe," Arthur mumbled as he rolled out of bed. He lit a lantern and retrieved a book from the shelf on the other side of the cabin. He grabbed the first one he saw and peered at the cover-- _Don Quixote_.

"Ugh," he blanched, slamming the book back onto the shelf and picking up one that was not in any way related to Spain. A Shakespearean work this time--some play called _The Tempest_. He hadn't gotten around to reading this one yet, actually--picked it up the last time he had been in Port Royal from a merchant.

"Got one?" Alfred asked.

"I guess," Arthur shrugged as he grabbed the lantern. He walked back over and climbed under the covers, setting the lantern on the crate next to his side of the bed. Alfred sat up and peered at the book over his shoulder as he cracked it open.

"What's this one about?" Alfred inquired, squinting at the pages.

"I don't know--I haven't read it yet," Arthur answered with a shrug. He eyed Alfred with a sly grin, "Want me to read it aloud?"

"Sure," Alfred answered with a smile, "But if you start feeling sleepy, just go to bed. Okay?"

"Okay," Arthur conceded as he started to read. He got about a page and a half in before tossing the book onto the floor in disgust.

"What was that for?" Alfred scolded, frowning at him.

"The one book I pick up is about a storm at sea and some bastard named Antonio," Arthur growled, throwing his hands up in defeat.

"Well it was boring as hell anyway," Alfred muttered as he got up, grabbed the lantern, and walked over to the bookshelf, "What language was that?"

"English, actually," Arthur corrected with a laugh.

"The hell it was," Alfred mumbled as he perused the shelves, "Sounded like gibberish to me,"

He paused as he came across a book with a jade green cover and pulled it out of the shelf.

"How 'bout this one?" he asked as he crept back into bed and handed the book to Arthur.

"Ah, this is a good one," Arthur said as he took Homer's _The Odyssey_ in his hands.

"You read it already?" Alfred asked with a frown.

"Yeah, but it's one of my favorites," Arthur answered, "Have you read it before? Oh, we're reading this one for sure, then," he added after Alfred shook his head.

* * *

Alfred snuggled in next to him as Arthur began to read. As he'd expected, Arthur was a very good narrator, inflecting his voice at all the right times to emphasize a passage and changing his voice according to which character was speaking. Alfred caught himself dozing a couple of times, but managed to stay awake.

He looked up from the book as Arthur faltered, cutting himself off with a yawn.

"Let me read for a bit," Alfred offered as he gently plucked the book from Arthur's hands.

"Fine," Arthur yawned, nestling back onto the pillow he had propped up. Alfred got through three more pages before soft snoring finally met his ears. He stole a look at him-Arthur looked quite peaceful, he reckoned. He smiled, leaning over and blowing out the lantern. He carefully set the book at the foot of the bed and drew the covers up to Arthur's chest. Arthur muttered something at him and cracked an eye open.

"No, go back to sleep," Alfred cautioned softly. Arthur obeyed and was snoring again shortly, slumped against his pillow.

"Finally," Alfred declared victoriously as he nestled into the mattress and drifted off.

* * *

"Alfred, go down and fetch some tar from the hold, will ya?" Caleb asked.

"Yeah, hold on," Alfred answered as he securely tied a knot in the rope he had been working with. He set it down and made his way down to the cargo hold. He squinted up at the sky--a little past noon, he deduced. Arthur was still asleep by the time he got up and began working a little after dawn, and he figured he'd check on him in a bit. He rolled his shoulders--they were a bit sore, mostly because of training with Tom and Sam, but it was paying off. He wouldn't have to depend on Arthur or one of the others to back him up if it came down to a fight. Tom and Sam had also taught him a few tactics to knock a man out without killing him, which eased his mind a bit.

He nearly collided with Gil as he shot up the stairwell, grumbling. He threw a glare Alfred's way as he stumbled out onto the deck. Alfred chuckled; he had woken up sometime in the early morning, lashed hopelessly to the mast and wearing a burlap sack over his face, cursing in what Alfred assumed was Prussian until Mat finally ordered someone to release him.

He grabbed a lantern and headed down into the cargo hold. The tar Caleb was referring to should be in one of the smaller crates toward the back. He made his way toward the far wall and paused as a shuffling sound caught his attention.

"...hello?" he called uncertainly, scanning the hold in the dim light of the lantern. He froze as he made out a figure huddled behind a stack of crates. He gulped, mustering his courage.

"I can see you back there," he challenged, "Come on out,"

The figure jumped, then slowly rose to its feet. Whoever it was, it wasn't one of the crewmen, to act like that. Come to think of it, Alfred didn't recall anybody on ship being that short, either--

"Alfred?" a woman's voice called. Alfred's jaw fell open as the stranger stepped out into the lantern light, removing the cloth wrapped around her face and head.

"P-pearl?" Alfred stammered as she ran to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. He barely recognized her with all of her makeup removed and hair flattened down with a bandana. She was dressed in rather tattered-looking men's clothing that was far too big for her small frame.

"Oh, Alfred, I'm so glad it's you!" she cried, kissing him on both cheeks.

"What the hell--what are you doing here?" Alfred hissed, stealing a look behind him to make sure nobody else had walked in. He turned back, watching Pearl frown at him sheepishly.

"Helping," she said with a shrug, "I'm worried about Arthur and the ship,"

"So...what are you doing here?" Alfred repeated incredulously.

"I want to help," she stated matter-of-factly as she leaned on one of the barrels of tar behind her and crossed her arms casually, "Arthur looked positively horrible when he told me about the Scrying incident. I've never seen him so shaken up, and I didn't like it,"

She paused, waiting for Alfred to speak. When he didn't, she continued.

"So, I came on board as one of the mast builders and hid down here. You know, just until the ship is far enough from Hortensia where Arthur won't turn around," she added with a shrug, "I'm of no help to him if I'm a hundred leagues away, am I?"

"I...guess not..." Alfred muttered, mind reeling, "But what do you intend to do? Do you know the..." he faltered, looking for the right word, "... _types_ that are on this ship? They're not exactly gentlemen,"

Pearl laughed delicately, putting her hand in front of her mouth.

"Oh, believe me, Alfred: I know these 'types' quite well. Some more than others," she said with a smirk. Alfred felt his cheeks reddening.

"But you can't just hide in the cargo hold forever--what happens when the others find you?" Alfred demanded.

"I don't _intend_ to hide forever," Pearl bristled, frowning at him, "Just long enough so that Arthur won't make the ship turn around and bring me back to Hortensia,"

"And how long is that?" Alfred asked warily.

"Another day," Pearl answered, "Just one day more, and then I can come out,"

"What about food?" Alfred asked. Pearl gestured toward the other side of the hold with her thumb.

"I've been taking a few things--little things that the cook won't notice," she explained with a sly grin, "I don't eat much, anyway,"

Alfred frowned at her, exhaling in irritation.

"Pearl--"

"Alfred, don't you squeal on me," she interrupted, brown eyes flashing at him dangerously. Alfred hesitated, and she rushed forward and grabbed him by the shoulders, "Please, Alfred," she begged, "I can help him, I know I can,"

"...how?" Alfred asked, cocking an eyebrow at her. Pearl smiled sweetly at him and tapped him on the nose with her index finger--Alfred jumped.

"I can see why he likes you," she cooed, "You're absolutely adorable,"

"Can you just...answer my question?" Alfred muttered hotly. He was NOT adorable, damn it.

Pearl returned to her barrel and leaned on it casually.

"I'm not as good as Arthur, I'll admit, but I am pretty good at this Scrying stuff--you know about that, right?" she asked. Alfred nodded, "Right, so I have pretty good control with Seeing...I might be able to help Arthur by finding out how this guy is interrupting our connection while Scrying...maybe distract him so Arthur can See better," she explained with a nod.

"You can do that?" Alfred blurted.

"I'm going to try," Pearl sighed, "Though I can't make any promises, I'm afraid,"

She looked up as a voice boomed down from the stairwell.

"Hey! Where's my goddamn tar?" Caleb shouted.

"C-coming!" Alfred lied as he shoved Pearl behind one of the barrels, "Be right up!" he added as Caleb mumbled something from the top of the steps. Alfred turned back toward Pearl, who had donned her scarf to obscure her face once again.

"You stay hidden--don't let them see you," Alfred warned, "And hide behind something they won't need for a while," he added hurriedly as he grabbed a tin of tar.

"Like what?" she whispered.

"Like..." Alfred faltered, looking around and finding a stack of moldy crates, "How about those?" he suggested, pointing toward them. It looked like they hadn't been touched for months. Pearl shuffled behind them, stacking them in front of her hurriedly.

"Thanks, Alfred," she whispered as Alfred headed for the steps.

"I'll try to come back down and see you later," Alfred promised as he dashed up the steps and out onto the deck. Caleb was standing beside the doorway, tapping the deck with his foot impatiently.

"Finally," he commented as he took the tin from Alfred, "What the hell took ya so long?" he demanded, "Damn hull isn't gonna wait around fer ya to dally about,"

"Sorry, I just had trouble finding it," Alfred lied. Caleb nodded and returned to his task, Alfred in-tow. He sighed, licking his lips. Hopefully nobody else went down into that cargo hold any time soon.

He looked up at the ship's wheel where Arthur now stood, conversing with Mat. Alfred swallowed--there really shouldn't be any reason for the captain to go below deck for anything, but there was no guarantee. Arthur suddenly looked up as if sensing him staring. Alfred froze, managing a weak grin as Arthur shot him a dazzling smile.

Alfred quickly looked away, blushing. Pearl had better be damn good at hiding, he thought to himself miserably as he went to help Caleb patch the hull.

* * *

Notes: "dismasted" means that a ship has been removed of its mast(s).

 


	14. Chapter 14

"You reading more of that story tonight?" Alfred asked as he climbed into bed next to Arthur. He and Sam had sparred for a bit, and his arms ached, but he felt awake enough to read for a while.

"Sure, Love, if you want," Arthur answered as he propped his pillow up. Alfred handed him the book and moved his pillow so he could lean against it.

"How'd it go out there today?" Arthur asked suddenly. Alfred froze, holding the pillow in mid-air as his mind raced. Arthur looked at him, frowning.

"...you all right?" he asked hesitantly, awkwardly reaching out and pushing the hovering pillow down onto the mattress.

"Yeah! I'm fine!" Alfred insisted with a nervous laugh, "Sorry 'bout that--just daydreaming,"

Arthur didn't look convinced, watching him carefully as Alfred got comfortable and leaned on his shoulder.

"What?" Alfred demanded as he sat up, "I said I'm fine!"

"You never answered my question," Arthur pointed out.

"...what question?" Alfred asked innocently; Arthur frowned at him, putting the book down on the mattress and folding his arms stubbornly.

"Alfred," he warned.

"I didn't hear your question," Alfred lied, "I told you, I was daydreaming. Sorry,"

Arthur frowned at him for a few moments before repeating himself.

"Oh, it was busy as usual," Alfred said as he took his glasses off and blew on them, "Patching the hull with Caleb for most of the day," he added, wiping the lenses on his shirt.

"Hmm," Arthur said, "What else?"

"...what else?" Alfred repeated as he blew on the lenses again and rubbed them on his shirt, "Well, let's see...well, Sam finished puttin' those new ropes in..."

"Uh-huh..." Arthur said, prompting him to keep talking. Alfred gulped and held his glasses to the light. They were spotless, but he blew on them and continued cleaning them nonetheless.

"...and...oh! Did I mention that Tom had picked up some new nails and things? Some of the old ones were starting to get all--"

"Alfred," Arthur cut him off, but Alfred kept his focus on his glasses.

"...yes?" Alfred asked quietly.

"If those lenses could get any cleaner they'd be nothing but air," Arthur said flatly, gently taking Alfred by the chin and making him look at him. Alfred's breath hitched in his chest--Arthur's green eyes glittered at him with suspicion, sizing him up as he tilted his head delicately. _Why_ was he so goddamn beautiful?

"What's going on?" he demanded, "And no lying to me," he warned. Alfred sighed, looking off to the side as Arthur's hand slid from his chin and rested on his chest.

"All right," Alfred sighed again, reluctantly looking into Arthur's eyes, "Well, actually, there was--"

He jumped as someone pounded on the cabin door.

"Uh, Captain?" Sam's voice called. Arthur was already halfway to the door, donning his red coat in mid-stride. Alfred followed close behind as he pulled the door open.

Oh _no_.

Sam was standing outside with a lantern, and he had a small figure firmly by the arm. Its face was obscured by a tattered brown cloth, save for a pair of deep brown eyes.

"Who the hell is this?" Arthur demanded with a frown, looking at Sam sharply.

"Well, Cap'n..." Sam faltered, pushing the stranger forward, "Go ahead 'n' show 'im," he instructed. Alfred bit his lip nervously as Pearl unwrapped the cloth, looking up at Arthur sheepishly.

"Hey there, Arthur," she said quietly. Alfred wasn't quite certain what Arthur's facial expression meant--it was a mixture of things, caught somewhere between fury and surprise.

"Found her in the cargo hold," Sam elaborated as he excused himself, "I'll just...be on my way, then..." he said awkwardly as he grimaced and rather quickly headed back down the deck. A very tense, awkward silence followed--Alfred squirmed unpleasantly, chewing on his lower lip.

"Well? Aren't you going to let me in?" Pearl snapped. Arthur slowly stepped aside as Pearl walked into the cabin. She threw a worried look Alfred's way as Arthur closed the door behind her.

"Pearl, what in the hell are you doing on my ship?" Arthur asked finally. His tone clearly indicated that he was displeased, but he didn't raise his voice.

"I'm here to help," she answered curtly, turning around to stare him in the eyes defiantly. Alfred considered leaving the room, but decided against it--he wouldn't want Pearl to think that he had abandoned her or something.

Arthur's eye twitched in agitation, but his expression remained like stone.

"Help?" he inquired finally.

"That's right," Pearl said, "With Scrying,"

"I don't _need_ any help," Arthur growled, "And you shouldn't be here," he added.

"Well, I am, so deal with it," she snapped, turning around and grabbing the lantern from the crate next to Arthur's side of the bed.

Alfred looked up at Arthur nervously; he looked quite displeased, eyes positively smoldering with disapproval. He snapped his gaze onto him, making Alfred jump. Arthur sighed, shaking his head as he watched Pearl take a seat on one of the chairs. She was cradling the lantern to her chest possessively, the orange glow lighting her delicate face.

"Pearl, I mean it," Arthur said pointedly, "This is no place for a woman,"

"Oh, enough already," Pearl sighed, rolling her eyes, "I'm telling you, I've seen more men than any one person should ever have to in her lifetime, most of 'em naked," she added slyly. Alfred fought not to blush. Arthur, however, frowned and folded his arms over his chest.

"Still," Arthur insisted, "A pirate ship is no place for a--what are you doing?" he asked as Pearl opened the hatch on the lantern and carefully removed the lit candle.

"Helping you," she answered curtly, "Get your Scrying plate out--I'm going to distract him so you can see what the hell he's up to. For all you know, he could be cooking up something even more dastardly than that storm,"

Arthur hesitated, frowning at her and brooding silently. Pearl snapped her head up and glared at him, lips contorted into a scowl.

"Well? Hurry up!" she snapped. Arthur clapped a hand to his forehead as he made his way to his trunk, muttering something about "damned fools" and "checking the infernal longboats" as he went. Alfred awkwardly stood in the middle of the room, trying not to look at either one of them.

"Alfred, Sweetie, you can help by sitting with us and making sure we aren't interrupted, all right?" Pearl said suddenly.

"Uh...okay," Alfred conceded, sitting down on the floor opposite of Arthur as he set the Scrying plate on the floor and knelt in front of it. Pearl knelt down on the floor to his right, holding the candle close to her face. Alfred watched as she stared into the flame, the orange tendril of light bouncing off of her dark eyes. He stole a look at Arthur, who was frowning at Pearl.

"You'd better start soon, Arthur. Focus on that Spanish guy and let's figure out where he is," Pearl scolded, not taking her eyes from that candle. Arthur sighed and leaned over the obsidian plate.

"Don't you go doing anything stupid," he growled as he peered into the smooth black surface. Alfred could see his reflection from where he sat, watching as his green eyes grew lazy and unfocused through the plane of the glass. Several awkward moments passed between the three of them before Arthur finally spoke.

"...fog," he murmured quietly, "Fog, over the waves..."

Alfred looked up at Pearl, who was staring into the candle quietly. Her eyes drifted, unfocused, as she looked into the dancing candlelight. Alfred raised an eyebrow in disbelief as the candlelight flickered, shifting abruptly from right to left, only there was no breeze to cause it. He gulped, turning his focus back onto Arthur as he spoke again.

* * *

"...wind...very strong wind..." Arthur practically whispered as he was drawn into the sea, drenched up to his ankles in dark water. Foam crested over the tops of the waves, the only flicker of brightness he could make out. The wind stung his face and blew his hair about wildly. He watched as the rolling sea suddenly lurched out from beneath him, leaving only a silvery fog in its wake. The wind abruptly stopped dead, and he was floating in...

"Nothing," he breathed in disbelief.

He looked up as something caught his eye--a tiny golden bird, flitting just out of his vision.

"...Pearl," he murmured.

"Follow it," she whispered from somewhere--it sounded like she was miles away, barely perceptible.

Arthur watched the bird carefully and he was borne into the air, the fog remaining beneath him in an a nearly perfect gray square. The scene gave way to the ocean once again, and the golden bird was gone. The wind was back, slamming into him angrily and whipping his clothing about.

"...strong winds," he commented softly, watching as the stars in the night sky fell, one by one, into the sea. They floated along the waves like the dead, bobbing in-time with the current as the wind raged above them. Arthur looked as a ship suddenly shot past him, impossibly fast, propelled by the gales.

"...ship?" he murmured, watching with curiosity as it sped across the sea, "Too fast," he said, "Far too fast..."

The scene suddenly vanished, and once more he was submerged in a thick gray fog.

"Fog," he breathed, suddenly feeling uneasy. This fog felt wrong, foreign...strange.

He looked into the fog, waiting for any sensations to come bubbling through, but nothing surfaced. It was as if the fog was serving to keep him out...?

"I can't," Pearl whispered from far away. Arthur pulled away, trying to remove himself from his trance quickly and failing. It was a gradual process, usually, but...this time was unusually difficult. He realized with a jolt that he couldn't get out. It was as if he was trapped, sealed within the swirling fog.

" _Come to us_ ," another voice beckoned from within the silvery nothingness. Arthur watched, helpless, as a misty gray hand formed in the swirling fog and grazed his cheek. He shuddered, trying to pull away and finding himself paralyzed.

"N...no," he managed, pulling back as hard as he could, straining to wake himself up. This was getting dangerous. He wasn't Scrying anymore. He was talking to something, and something was talking to him, _touching_ him. Not a vision--a living thing.

"This..shouldn't be," he muttered as the silvery tendrils slid over his temple and down to his jaw. It made him feel strange...his head felt fuzzy, as if the fog were swirling around within his mind.

He looked up in terror as something emerged from within the fog, a silhouette of something Arthur was certain wasn't human. It was attached to that ghostly hand that stroked his face, coming closer with each passing moment.

"...thur?" someone called from somewhere. Arthur watched as the figure drew closer--it was dragging something behind it, but Arthur couldn't quite make it out. He squinted, trying to identify whatever it was and...oh, God.

Arthur drew a shuddering breath as his heart leapt into his mouth.

"A...body?" he guessed, turning his full attention onto what was being pulled along behind...whatever that thing was. A limp body, head lolling onto its chest...

"A...Antonio?" Arthur blurted as the figure ran its slim fingers over his eyes, drawing them closed. He panicked as he realized that he couldn't reopen them, struggling as whatever this thing was slid its fingers across his brow, then back down his cheek--

"Arthur? Arthur, wake up!" someone cried through the ether.

"...Al...fred?" Arthur murmured, suddenly feeling himself being wrenched free of the thing's grasp. A horrifying sound filled his ears, like a guttural wheeze as he abruptly came back to reality and landed in a dizzying spiral on the floor of his cabin. Alfred swam into view, looking down at him anxiously. His blue eyes were wide with worry.

"Arthur?" he cried as Arthur blinked at him, "Oh thank God!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms around the other man and drawing him to his chest.

"I'm all right, Alfred," Arthur muttered into his shirt as Alfred held him fast. Arthur groaned softly; it felt like his head was going to explode, and Alfred constricting him wasn't helping.

"Not so tight, Alfred," Pearl advised, noting the other man's discomfort. Alfred lessened his grip, but refused to let go of him completely.

"Ugh..." Arthur muttered as he rubbed his throbbing head, "What the hell happened?" he slurred after a moment's pause, stealing a look over at Pearl. She looked disheveled, brown eyes sunken tiredly in the light of her single candle.

"I'm...not sure," she admitted tiredly, pausing to draw a deep breath, "Are you all right?" she asked. Arthur fought not to shiver and lost, prompting Alfred to hold him a little tighter. He was grateful for the gesture, sinking into his lover's chest tiredly.

"There was something in the fog," he said quietly.

"I know," Pearl said cryptically, "I saw...something...before I couldn't hold my connection any longer. It was like something kicked me out--like last time, only...different. It wasn't a person, was it?" she asked nervously, putting a hand to her temple and rubbing it gingerly.

Arthur shook his head as his teeth loudly chattered together--he set his jaw in an attempt to stop them.

"I saw Antonio," he blurted suddenly, giving Pearl a stern look, "Whatever that thing was had him, dragging him along like a dead man,"

"...what?" Pearl breathed, "I...I didn't see anything like that. Are you sure?"

"Definitely," Arthur managed, suddenly feeling very drained, "Damn thing was touching my face," he added with a cringe, "Paralyzed me...couldn't move...couldn't get out..." he trailed off with an involuntary shiver as he looked up into Alfred's face.

"Saved my life again, Love," he said, managing a weak smile, "Your voice was what pulled me loose...thank you," he added quietly as Alfred muttered something about how he was an idiot and drew him in close again. Arthur allowed himself to be held despite Pearl watching, wanting nothing more at the moment than to doze off in his arms. He resisted, looking over at Pearl worriedly.

"What happened to you?" Arthur asked, "I saw the bird,"

"Yeah, but I could only hold it for a short time," Pearl admitted, "Just long enough to get you out of that fog, but..." she shivered, drawing a deep breath, "That...thing grabbed me," she said as she wrung her hands nervously, "Grabbed right onto my wrist and threw me out. I wound up on the floor in a heap, head throbbing like a son of a bitch..." she trailed off, looking up at Alfred with a tired smile, "Alfred here took good care of me, though. Thank you, Sweetie," she added kindly.

"W-what the hell happened to you two?" Alfred stammered, clearly shaken, "The two of you are muttering nonsense and the next thing I know you're both collapsing on the floor--what the _hell_?" he demanded, voice cracking.

"I think we're dealing with more than we bargained for," Arthur admitted with a shiver; Alfred rubbed his arm nervously, "Whatever was interrupting our Scrying before...do you think it was actually Antonio?" he asked as he reluctantly broke free of Alfred's grip and sat up.

"Could've been that other thing," Pearl reasoned, "Though I don't think so--it definitely felt different this time...and why would Antonio have tried to keep you from coming out of it?"

"...but why would whatever it was want to keep you in?" Alfred wondered quietly. A tense silence filled the room, broken only by Arthur drawing a shaky breath and slowly releasing it.

"It called to me," Arthur added quietly, "It wanted me to stay there, for whatever reason, and Antonio..." he trailed off, shaking his aching head.

"Was he...?" Alfred began.

"I don't think so," Arthur reasoned, "What good would he be to that thing if he was dead? Especially if it was after a Scryer..." he trailed off, frowning thoughtfully.

"For what reason, though?" Pearl questioned, "It doesn't make any sense,"

"Unless it needs the connection from Scrying from a living person to...get out?" Arthur offered.

"Get out of what?" Alfred asked, horrified.

"Agh, I don't know," Arthur sighed, rubbing his aching head tiredly.

"Nor do I," Pearl admitted, "But I think we should call it a night and talk about this in the morning,"

"All right," Arthur conceded as Alfred helped him to his feet. He was unsteady at first, but recovered, "Pearl, you get in bed--I'll sleep somewhere else,"

"What?" Pearl blurted as she tottered on her feet, "No way! Just gimme your pillows--I'll sleep on the table,"

"I'm not making you sleep on the _goddamn table_ ," Arthur growled.

"You're not _making me_ do anything," Pearl snapped, stalking over to the bed and ripping the pillows from it. Arthur was in no mood to argue, and let her do as she pleased.

"Get some rest, the both of you," Alfred scolded as he followed Arthur to the bed. Arthur sank onto it tiredly, not even bothering to remove his jacket. Alfred retrieved a blanket to drape over Pearl and tucked her in before heading back over to bed. He drew the blankets over Arthur and climbed in beside him, drawing him close and kissing him gently on the forehead.

"Sorry..." Arthur mumbled as his eyes fell closed.

"For what?" Alfred asked.

"Scarin' you..." Arthur trailed off. If Alfred had a response, he didn't stay awake long enough to hear it.

* * *

Arthur's dreams that night were wrought with hellish visions and strange sounds--he had woken up with a start several times, only to be lulled back to sleep by Alfred speaking to him softly and stroking his hair. He felt stupid--he was a pirate captain, for fuck's sake, not some sniveling child with nightmares. Still, it wasn't like he had any control over it, embarrassing though it may be.

"Ugh, not again," he lamented as he woke up with a startled yelp for what seemed like the hundredth time, ending up perched on his elbows.

"It's okay," Alfred insisted sleepily as he put his arms around him, "'s not your fault," he added.

Arthur chuckled bitterly, rubbing his eyes. He was exhausted, but he was getting nowhere at this rate. Plus, he thought with a frown, he was preventing Alfred from getting a decent night's rest as well.

He looked over at the far side of the room as shuffling and a loud "harrumph!" erupted from the table where Pearl was sleeping.

"...you all right?" Arthur asked as he sat up. She sat up too, her silhouette barely visible in the darkness.

"Yeah, I guess," she grumbled, "I'd be better if I didn't have that horrible thing in the fog coming at me while I'm trying to sleep, though," she added hotly.

"You 'n' me both," Arthur yawned as Alfred sat up next to him.

"Well, seeing as we're both terrible at this sleeping thing," Pearl grumbled as she got up off of the table and plunked herself on the foot of the bed. Arthur swung his legs over the side so that she had more room.

"I was thinking about what you said," she said after a moment, "About how it might have been trying to 'get out' of something through a Scryer,"

"What of it?" Arthur pried after a tense silence followed. He could just barely make out her rolling her shoulders uncomfortably.

"Well, what if it's something like a spirit?" she asked, "Something that exists on another plane entirely? We can only see it because we're Scrying, so we're not exactly in a normal plane anyway at the time, right?"

Arthur blinked tiredly at her, frowning. He just wanted to sleep, damn it all.

"Huh?" Alfred asked for him.

"Well, think about it," Pearl huffed as she shifted in her seat, "People have been communicating with spirits for centuries, haven't they? Divination's just one way of doing that. It's possible that we'd run into something otherworldly while Scrying...maybe we already have and didn't notice before. Only this time, one of the spirits is seeking _us_ out rather than us seeking _it_ out," she elaborated.

"I...guess so," Arthur admitted with a thoughtful frown, "So you're saying it's trying to...escape from that plane of existence into ours? Using me?" he deduced, though he really didn't like the thought at all.

"Makes sense, doesn't it?" Pearl asked.

"Not...really, no," Alfred muttered as he scratched his head, "Why does it need _you_? Why didn't it attack somebody else?"

"Unless it already did," Arthur said with an unpleasant jolt, "Maybe that's why it was dragging Antonio along,"

A very uncomfortable silence followed, broken only by the sounds of the ship settling around them. Finally, Pearl sighed.

"Maybe he wasn't strong enough to be a proper host, then," she reasoned, "I mean, with this occult stuff, you're definitely better than him--"

"Damn right I am," Arthur said with a smarmy grin.

"Arthur," Alfred scolded, smacking him on the arm. Arthur laughed hollowly and nudged him with his elbow.

"I'm serious, though," Pearl insisted as she folded her arms across her chest, "That could be why it was after you. Maybe that other guy is just a temporary host until it can get a hold of you and--"

"All right, stop it," Arthur interrupted. His voice had sounded strong enough, but he felt nauseous. The idea of that...thing...waiting for him just beyond the veil of unconsciousness, its tendrils reaching out and obscenely caressing his flesh--

"Sorry, Arthur," Pearl mumbled, "I'm just trying to figure this out is all...and it's okay to be frightened--"

"I am NOT frightened," Arthur hissed through clenched teeth.

"I meant to say 'anxious,' Arthur," Pearl insisted.

"Sure you did," Arthur mumbled under his breath. He was glad it was dark in the room so she couldn't see how pale his face probably was. He felt clammy, fatigued...he hoped Alfred wouldn't notice.

"What about the other things that you saw, though?" Alfred asked suddenly. Arthur turned to look at him, frowning thoughtfully.

"I...don't recall," Arthur admitted, turning away and staring down at his hands in his lap. To his disgrace, they were shaking.

"You don't remember?" Pearl pressed, sounding nervous. Arthur was certain that she and Alfred were exchanging worried glances with one another, but he refused to look. He frowned, trying to concentrate. He had definitely seen something before that thing in the fog, but...what?

"There might have been...stars?" he offered as he focused his energy on forcing his hands to stop quivering. What the hell was the matter with him?

"You said something about wind," Alfred said as he gently reached for Arthur's left hand. He slid it out of Alfred's grasp in shame, balling it into a fist. Alfred didn't persist, but the gesture didn't go unnoticed.

"Yes, that's right," Arthur said, nodding slowly, "Yeah, there was a very strong wind blowing over the sea," he said, relieved that his memory was returning.

"And a ship, too," Alfred added.

"Yeah, there was a ship," Arthur said as he nodded again, "It was practically flying in that wind, it was going so fast,"

"Did you recognize it?" Pearl asked.

"No, I don't think so," Arthur muttered as he shook his head, "Just...there was something unnatural about how fast it was going,"

"...like another storm is coming?" Pearl inquired hesitantly. Arthur looked up at her silhouette and ran a quaking hand through his hair.

"God, I hope not," he mumbled, "Had enough of _that_ to last me a lifetime,"

Painfully awkward silence ensued for a while, leaving Arthur alone with his thoughts. Antonio in the clutches of that creature as it reached out for Arthur, its spindly appendages sliding across his face--

He jumped as Pearl suddenly leapt off of the bed and headed toward the cabin door.

"Where are you going?" Alfred asked.

"I need some air," Pearl declared as she reached out and grabbed the doorknob.

"Hold on--" Arthur protested.

"I'm just going out to the railing right across from the door, then right back in again," Pearl insisted as she threw the door open and walked outside.

"Fine, whatever," Arthur grumbled as the door clicked shut. He rubbed his eyes, cursing under his breath. Alfred watched over him worriedly.

"We'll figure it out, Arthur," Alfred said finally, reaching over and taking Arthur's hand--he gave no resistance this time, "Whoa, you're freezing," he hissed, "Lay down," he instructed.

"I'm fine," Arthur insisted, though he didn't resist when Alfred forced him under the covers and snuggled close to him, "...just can't seem to get that damned thing out of my mind," he added after a few moments of silence passed between them.

"Can't get it out of your mind, hm?" Alfred repeated as he rolled over on top of him. Arthur could just make out his blue eyes in the dim light streaming in from the windows. They twinkled with mischief and something else that Arthur's exhausted mind couldn't place, bright and full of vigor. He felt his eyes fall closed as Alfred closed his lips onto his, lacing his fingers into Arthur's hair and pressing their bodies together. Arthur managed a weak smile as they separated.

"I'll do my best to make you forget about it," Alfred whispered into his ear.

 


	15. Chapter 15

Arthur had already fallen into a dead sleep by the time Alfred crawled back into bed and held him close. He smiled--he had certainly worn himself out. Hopefully Arthur was tired enough to sleep for a while as well. He placed his lips onto Arthur's forehead, testing his temperature.

"Much better," he declared as he nestled close to Arthur again and closed his eyes. He hoped Pearl couldn't hear anything from where she was likely perched out on the deck railing. He hadn't made too much noise, himself, but Arthur certainly had. But, he reasoned with a sly grin, Arthur wasn't the one who had his mouth full at the time. He felt himself blushing and frowned. Hell, if it were anyone but Arthur, he wouldn't have even considered it. _Ever_. He felt a sense of pride in the way that he had made Arthur react, though...Alfred had him completely at his mercy, and it had been intoxicating. The captain had fallen asleep almost immediately afterward, collapsing onto the mattress in exhaustion and leaving Alfred to clean up, vigorously gargle, and wonder what kind of infernal hold Arthur held over him to make him volunteer to do such a thing.

He felt himself starting to doze as Arthur mumbled something in his sleep. He rubbed the other man's arm gently as he finally allowed his worried thoughts to run free. Whatever Arthur and Pearl had seen, it had absolutely terrified Arthur. Shaken him to the core, it seemed. He frowned--Arthur wasn't a coward. He had obviously been at this Scrying thing for quite some time, too. For something to make him too fearful to sleep...

"We _will_ figure it out, Arthur," he assured him softly, "I promise,"

* * *

Lovino frowned, watching warily as Antonio stared out over the ship's wheel. He had been standing like that for over two hours straight and hadn't moved a muscle, save for the occasional slight adjustment of the wheel.

"Hey!" he greeted as he walked over to the captain, "You gonna get some dinner or what?!" he shouted over the wind. It tossed his hair into his eyes and threatened to rip his bandana right off of his head, the way it was howling. The rest of the crew had retreated below deck after their request to take the sails down had been vetoed by the captain.

Antonio didn't appear to hear him, staring straight ahead with glassy eyes. The fierce winds didn't seem to bother him at all as they wildly tossed his brown hair about. It hadn't even fazed him when he had lost his hat--Lovino had managed to catch it in time before it blew into the Atlantic, but it had been close. He frowned even more deeply--something was wrong with him. Lovino stomped forward and grabbed the Spaniard by the arm, shaking him roughly.

"HEY!" Lovino shouted, "I'm TALKIN' TO YOU!"

Antonio blinked down at him in surprise, as if just realizing that he was there.

"Leave me alone," he warned as he turned his attention back to the wheel. Lovino could barely hear him over the wind howling in his ears.

"Antonio, come ON," he protested, tugging on the captain's arm, "You need to go inside until this passes--"

"I TOLD YOU TO LEAVE ME ALONE," Antonio shouted as he wrenched himself from Lovino's grasp and shoved him. Lovino staggered backward a few paces, floored.

"Something's wrong with you," he said softly, though he was certain Antonio couldn't hear him, "Why won't you just stop?" he whispered, shaking his head, "Caro, _please_..." he trailed off as his voice broke. He looked up suddenly as a hand landed on his shoulder. His brother was looking at him sadly, shaking his head and gesturing for Lovino to follow him below deck. Lovino reluctantly obeyed, turning and taking one last look at the captain before heading downstairs.

The crew were all gathered in the galley, talking busily amongst themselves. He looked up as the first mate greeted him, frowning.

"How vas he?" Ludwig asked in a thick Germanic accent.

"Not good," Feliciano answered for him as Lovino just shook his head, "He's still at the helm,"

"In zis?" Ludwig said as he raised an eyebrow, "Ugh, vhat is he doing? Ve're going to break our sails in zis vind. I'm surprised ve haven't already,"

"Me too," Feliciano agreed as he led Lovino over to a stool; he plunked down into it with a miserable frown, "I'm sure he'll cheer up once we get to that cave, though!" Feliciano added enthusiastically as he sat down next to him.

"Maybe," Lovino muttered as someone placed a drink in front of him, "Thanks, Kiku," he said as he looked up. The man nodded at him with a small smile as he sat down beside his brother. A sailor from The Orient. Strangely quiet, but an incredibly skilled navigator--Lovino was glad he decided to come on board with them.

"I take it that we are still heading for the cave, then," Kiku deduced as Lovino took a swig of his drink.

"Ja, looks like it," Ludwig sighed as he leaned on the table, "I don't zhink zhe men are going to take much more of zis, though," he added quietly.

"What do you mean?" Lovino demanded as he turned to look at him, eyes ablaze with anger.

"I'm just saying," Ludwig said, putting his hands up in a placating gesture, "All of zhem are starting to question vhether he's fit to lead zis crew...und I can't say zat I blame zem, either, based on how he's been behaving--"

"Shut up," Lovino hissed.

"Lovino, please--" Feliciano pleaded.

"No!" Lovino blurted, "I won't have you talking about..." he paused, "...mutiny..." he whispered, "like that!" he exclaimed, raising his voice again, "Antonio isn't a bad captain! What about all of the loot we've found following him, eh?!"

"I know zat," Ludwig agreed as he took a drink of his beer, "But zhey're starting to ask questions. I'm keeping zem at bay as much as I can, but if zhey decide to act, I'll need backup,"

"Well you've got my back, buddy!" Feliciano exclaimed enthusiastically as he threw his arms around the first mate's waist.

"Agh, get off of me!" Ludwig exclaimed, smacking Feliciano off of him and blushing furiously. The other Italian just giggled, winking at Lovino from behind Ludwig.

"You have my support as well," Kiku said quietly with a stern nod.

"And mine," Lovino promised, "Count me in,"

"Sehr gut," Ludwig muttered, nodding his head at them and stealing a look at the rest of the crew. Normally a rowdy bunch, they were oddly subdued. A few of them were playing cards, but most were just muttering amongst themselves. One man sat in the corner, petting a cat and talking to it quietly.

"How long until we get to that cave, anyhow?" Feliciano asked.

"Shouldn't be more zhan a day or so, vith zis vind," Ludwig reasoned, looking up at the ceiling thoughtfully before taking another drink, "Vhich, by zhe vay, isn't normal at all,"

"I agree," Kiku said quietly, "Where did this wind come from? I have studied the charts of this region, and there should not be any prolonged winds that are this powerful,"

"Zat's vhat I vant to know," Ludwig sighed, stealing a look at Lovino, "Did he mention anyzhing to you about zis?"

Lovino hesitated, looking down into his wine quietly. Yes, he had, but he had also forbidden him to speak of it to the crew. Thought it would scare them and incite them to riot, he said. But the way that his eyes had fogged over unnaturally when he looked into that mirror, holding that goddamned stone in his pocket--

"Fratello?" Feliciano asked, drawing him out of his trance, "You okay?"

"Y-yeah, I'm fine," Lovino lied as he stood up, "I think I'm just going to go to bed," he muttered, "Good-night,"

"...night," the others said, but Lovino barely heard them as he raced toward the barracks. He shoved his hands in his pockets as he walked, trying not to think about how Antonio was standing out there at the helm, glassy unfocused eyes peering out at the sea--

"Hey, Lovino!" Ludwig called from behind him. Lovino stopped dead in his tracks and turned around. The first mate looked grave, blue eyes darting around nervously to make sure they were alone.

"...yes?" Lovino asked hesitantly.

"Look, I know about zat stone," Ludwig said quietly. Lovino almost fell over in shock as his jaw fell open.

"W-what?" he blurted, "How the hell did you--?"

"I saw it," Ludwig said with a shrug, "He kept taking it out of his pocket all of zhe time, looking at it...somezhing veird about it, isn't zhere? Zhe vay he can't put it down?"

Lovino nodded, shocked but at the same time relieved that someone else knew what Antonio had been trying to hide. Ludwig cursed under his breath, looking over at the far wall.

"Und let me guess--he's using it to see into zhe future, ja? Vhatever it's called...Spying or somezhing like zat?" Ludwing stated with a haphazard arm gesture.

"Scrying, yeah," Lovino squeaked.

"Zat's it--Scrying," Ludwig agreed as he folded his arms over his chest, "Und zat storm he supposedly vas able to control vith it..." he paused, shaking his head, "I'm sure he asked you not to say anyzhing, just like he asked me, but..." he trailed off, looking down at Lovino worriedly.

"But we might have to break that promise," Lovino finished for him.

"Ja," Ludwig sighed as he shook his head, "I zhink we should take zhat stone avay from him once we reach zhe cave. It's no good trying to fight him in zis vind,"

Lovino nodded slowly, swallowing. The first mate noticed his unease and put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Look, zhe men vill calm down once we reach zat cave and zhey get zheir hands on zat gold," Ludwig reasoned with a half-smile, "Zhen all ve have to vorry about is taking zat stone vhile zhe Captain's distracted and be done vith it,"

"...how, though?" Lovino practically whispered, "He keeps it on him all of the time, and he hardly ever sleeps nowadays,"

"Zat's...vhere you come in," Ludwig said slyly, "I've got a plan, but I'll need your help. You've got to distract him somehow vhile I grab zat stone and get rid of it,"

"...distract him?" Lovino repeated, noting how the first mate had turned red and was refusing to look at him, "Oh. You mean _that_ ," Lovino deduced, feeling heat rising in his cheeks, "That's disgusting!" he hissed indignantly, "Don't say things like that!"

"You just need to distract him so I can grab zat stone out of his coat pocket," Ludwig insisted, still refusing to look him in the eye, "Just get his jacket off of him--zat's all,"

Lovino eyed him warily, frowning.

"You'd better not peep," he accused as he jabbed a finger in the German's ribs, "I'll kill you, you know," he added hotly.

"I von't!" Ludwig practically shouted as he stepped backward and looked down at him, "I'll just grab zhe stupid stone out of his jacket, zat's all!"

"Fine," Lovino sighed, shaking his head, "I guess I'll go up to his cabin, then...wouldn't want him thinking I'm up to something once we arrive at that cave. Tomorrow, you said, right?"

He sighed again as the first mate nodded.

"Not a word to anyone else about this, right?" Lovino asked pointedly.

"Nein," Ludwig answered, "Same goes for you--no one else needs to know. Zhen we can just put zis all behind us," he added.

"I hope so," Lovino said quietly. Ludwig clapped him on the shoulder again and returned to the galley as Lovino made his way up to the deck. He leaned into the wind, cursing as he made his way to the captain's cabin. He frowned--tomorrow, huh?

He prayed that this worked.

* * *

Arthur awoke to the sounds of a conversation floating across his semi-consciousness.

"...a couple of days, though, right?"

"Yeah, I think so, based on his charts,"

The sound of papers ruffling.

"You can read this?" a woman's voice...Pearl?

"Sort of," another voice--Alfred, for certain, "He's taught me a little bit on how to read these things, but...anyway, the treasure we're headed toward is over here somewhere...um...there,"

"Ah, I see," Pearl said, "So we'll get there in plenty of time before that Spic guy does,"

"That's what Arthur said," Alfred answered.

Arthur knew he should wake up, but he simply didn't want to. He felt heavy, as if he were made of lead. He drifted in and out of sleep, small snippets of the conversation in his cabin rising and falling with his consciousness.

"...okay? It's good that he got some sleep, but..."

"...hear anything, did you?"

"No...why?"

"Never mind,"

"Oooh, what did you DO to him?"

"Sh-shut up!"

He awoke again to the sensation of something soft brushing against his forehead.

"He's not cold like he was," Alfred declared softly as a shuffling sound revealed him standing up on the floor beside the bed.

"Well that's good," Pearl said from somewhere, "Think we should wake him up? It's almost eight 'o'clock,"

"No, let him rest," Alfred decided. Footsteps were heading toward the cabin door.

"Where are you going?" Pearl asked.

"You stay here with him--I'm going to see what's going on outside," Alfred said.

"All right," Pearl promised.

Arthur didn't hear anything more for a while as he drifted in and out of sleep. It felt glorious, like he was being wrapped in a warm blanket each time he let go. Eventually, though, someone humming a familiar tune brought him back. He cracked his eyes open--Pearl was seated in a chair beside him, humming softly as she looked out the window.

"...is that Greensleeves?" he muttered.

"Oh!" Pearl exclaimed as she looked down at him, "You're awake!"

"Hey, Pearl," he greeted with a crooked smile, "How're you faring?"

"Me? I'm fine. What about you?" she asked, "You're the one I'm worried about, not me," she added as she put her hand on his forehead.

"Better," Arthur said as he went to get out of bed, then thought better of it when he realized that Alfred had removed his pants the night before.

"What's wrong?" Pearl asked, noting his hesitation.

"Uh--"

"Oh, please," she snorted as she tore the blankets off of him. Arthur swore and hurriedly covered his privates, "Don't be such a baby," she teased, "Do you know how _many_ of those ugly things I've seen? Ridiculous,"

"Turn around, damn it!" Arthur hissed, feeling his face flush scarlet.

"Fine," Pearl sighed as she got out of her seat and walked toward the bookshelf, facing away from him, "You're funny sometimes, you know that?" she giggled.

"I wouldn't call this funny," Arthur frowned as he located his pants and hurriedly donned them, "It's most undignified," he insisted.

"Ooh, watch out--you're sounding like a politician again," Pearl chided as she turned back around.

"Oh shut up," Arthur snapped, "And I didn't tell you it was safe to turn around yet," he added.

"Well you've got pants on, don't you?" she said, raising an eyebrow at him defiantly as she took her seat next to the bed again, "Alfred tells me we're only two days out from that cave,"

"That's right," Arthur agreed, "Should be there by Wednesday afternoon sometime,"

"Hmm," Pearl nodded, frowning thoughtfully.

"Although I'm considering turning this ship around," Arthur growled as he grabbed the other chair by the table and set it down next to her.

"What?" Pearl blurted, looking at him as if he were insane, "Why would you do that? You won't beat that Spic bastard unless you hurry up and get to that cave before--!"

"I know that," Arthur cut her off, "But if it weren't for that we'd be heading back to Hortensia as we speak," he added pointedly, frowning sternly at her. Pearl frowned, looking down at her hands.

"I'm just trying to help," she muttered.

"I know, but do you really think you stowing away on my ship is helping me? Now I have to worry about you getting hurt," Arthur blurted before he could stop himself. Pearl smiled at him and got up, wrapping her arms around his neck kindly.

"Oh, Arthur," she said quietly as she released him, "You're a wonderful friend. The best I've ever had, you know that?" she praised as she took her seat once again, "It was worth making you angry if it meant I had a sliver of a chance of helping you, maybe even saving your life. I want you to know that," she added with a shy smile.

"What will you do after we hit the cave, though?" Arthur asked quietly, finding himself rather moved by her speech.

Pearl was silent for a moment, looking out the window. She was very pretty, Arthur noted, with expressive brown eyes and a delicate jawbone that was always covered up in all of that awful makeup she usually wore. Too bad she couldn't just be herself like this all of the time, he thought to himself as she turned back to face him.

"I'm not going back to Hortensia, Arthur," she said defiantly.

"Pearl--"

"I _can't_ ," she insisted, shrugging miserably, "I left my post. I'm fired. No job, no prospects, no family...there's nothing left for me there, Arthur," she said softly, looking down at her hands.

"What do you want to do?" Arthur asked her after a moment's pause. She looked up at him, eyes filled with hope.

"I want to stay with you. My place is with you and the crew--I'm sure of it," she said, "And I know what you're thinking--this is NO PLACE for a woman," she said sarcastically with a frown, "And under most circumstances I'd say you were absolutely right, but...my place is here. That's it. Besides, I've nowhere else to go," she added pointedly.

Arthur sighed, looking up at the ceiling for a few minutes before pacing around the room.

"What're you thinking of?" Pearl asked as he adjusted his jacket.

"How I'm going to explain you to the crew," Arthur muttered as he turned back toward her with a crooked smile, "They're going to be pretty shocked that we're adding a woman to the ranks," he added.

Pearl blinked at him a couple of times before leaping out of her chair. She embraced him once again, planting a kiss on each of his cheeks.

"Thank you, Arthur," she breathed--Arthur wasn't sure, but he was fairly certain that she was crying, "Thank y--"

Arthur turned around as the handle to the cabin door clinked--Pearl practically leapt off of him, stumbling back and plopping back onto her chair clumsily as the door swung open. Alfred, Sam, and Mat emerged.

"Good-morning," Sam said as he awkwardly waved, following Alfred into the cabin. Mat, however, stayed frozen in the doorway, mouth agape.

"H-hey, Mat," Pearl said nervously from her seat.

"Holy shit," Mat blurted as he looked at Sam, "You weren't lying,"

"Told ya," Sam said flatly, "You comin' in or not?" he accused, " 'N' shut the damn door,"

Mat reluctantly stepped into the room and closed the door behind him, shaking his head.

"So...now what?" Alfred asked, breaking the awkward silence.

"How did you get on board?" Mat blurted as he leaned on the closed door, crossing his arms over his chest. Pearl shrugged and stood up, looking over at Mat sheepishly.

"With the mast crew," she answered, "Then I hid for a bit,"

"In the cargo hold," Mat deduced as Pearl nodded. Mat sighed, removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"I was hoping you'd be happier to see me than that," Pearl said dryly, frowning at him.

"Happier?" Mat blurted as he donned his glasses again, "About a stowaway?"

"Well at least I'm a friendly stowaway," Pearl snapped, "I could've been some other lunatic...I could have even be _Natalia_ ," she added with a wicked smirk. Mat's face flushed scarlet as he turned away, mumbling under his breath.

"Pearl is going to be staying on ship with us for the time being," Arthur said, giving each of them a pointed look as he spoke, "We'll have to introduce her to the crew fairly soon,"

"Staying with us?" Sam repeated, raising his eyebrows, "For how long is 'the time being?'" he asked with a studious frown.

"Indefinitely," Arthur answered, looking at Sam sternly.

"Captain," Mat warned.

"I'll explain," Arthur said as he leaned on the far wall.

* * *

Alfred listened intensely as Arthur explained what he and Pearl had encountered while Scrying to his first mate and boatswain, though he noted that he was leaving a few details out. The fact that the thing lurking in the fog was trying to possess him, for example, never made it into the explanation, but Alfred didn't correct him.

"Damn it," Sam breathed, shaking his head, "You 'n' that black magic shit," he mumbled.

"So it's gotten worse," Mat said absently, frowning, "But as long as you don't Scry anymore, you shouldn't have a problem, right?"

"I'd say yes, but Antonio is involved now," Arthur explained glumly.

"Yeah, what the hell?" Sam blurted, "It was dragging his body along? Like he was dead?"

"How do you know it was even real, though?" Mat asked uncertainly, "Some of the things you see are just vague impressions, right? Nothing's ever concrete,"

"No, that was as concrete as it could get," Arthur insisted as he shook his head.

"I agree," Pearl said as she nodded, "I saw it too,"

"And...it touched you, too?" Mat pried.

"It grabbed my wrist and wrenched me out of my trance," Pearl elaborated, rubbing her arm absently. A very tense silence followed, broken by Sam sighing as he threw his arms into the air.

"So what does this all mean, exactly?" he blurted, "Spic's got some kinda specter after 'im, right? That's good for us, then--we can grab the loot at that cave before him 'n' leave that...whatever it was for him to deal with,"

Alfred chewed on his lip nervously. Sure, that theory made sense with Arthur leaving the most unnerving detail out of the story. He looked over at Arthur, who refused to meet his gaze. He sighed; no sense in trying to convince him otherwise at this point.

"Our route remains the same," Arthur agreed, "We'll be at that cave in less than two days,"

"Hold on," Mat said, cocking an eyebrow, "What about Pearl?"

"I can cook," Pearl offered with a shrug, "Or swab the decks, or something like that. I can be useful," she added, frowning at the first mate.

"Well, Tim probably could use a hand in the kitchen..." Mat reasoned with a frown, "How should I explain that to the crew, though?" he asked.

"You won't--I will," Arthur corrected, "Gather the men up in a few and I'll explain the situation to 'em," he added.

"All right, then," Mat sighed as he adjusted his glasses, "But you didn't mention the storm, Captain," he pointed out with a frown that left no room for argument. Arthur didn't seem to like what he had said, as his right eye twitched.

"That strong wind seems to fall into that same pattern, don't you think? How unusual it was?" Mat added. The look Arthur flashed him could have cut iron, but Mat stared him down without flinching.

"What about it?" Sam asked warily, "W-wait, yer not sayin' that Spic had somethin' to do with the storm that hit us, are you?" he deduced. When nobody answered, Sam groaned loudly and sank into the chair in front of Pearl.

"Agh, what the FUCK," he declared as he shook his head, "So now we've got THAT to worry about, too?"

"I wouldn't panic yet," Arthur cautioned, throwing Mat a disapproving look, "We still don't know for certain if he has the capability of...controlling the weather," he added reluctantly.

"Yet he can get inside yer head 'n' send a monster thing after ya so ya can't spy on him," Sam said flatly, "Cap'n, this isn't good at all...he could be a _demon_ for all we know,"

"Sam--" Arthur tried to interject.

"This is serious business!" Sam insisted, eyes wild, "Can't you drum up some kind of protective charm against it or somethin'?"

"I don't think that will be necessary, Sam," Arthur said patiently, "As you mentioned, that creature is only a threat when Scrying,"

"For _now_ ," Sam pointed out, "What happens when we meet up with the Spaniard, huh? Maybe he'll have that goddamn thing with him!"

"Which is why we need to stay the course and make certain to get the loot before he does," Arthur explained carefully, "There is absolutely no reason to panic, Sam," he reiterated.

"Then why tell us?" Sam asked, frowning at him.

"So that you know why Pearl's here," Arthur explained tiredly.

"I was trying to be helpful," Pearl piped up as she cracked her knuckles nervously, "I still am," she added, glancing at Mat and frowning uncertainly.

"So I take it we don't tell the others about this, obviously," Sam sighed as he got up out of his seat, "Wouldn't want 'em to lose it,"

"Exactly," Arthur warned, "This is confidential. All the rest of the men need to know is to be prepared to head out to that cave tomorrow afternoon in the longboats,"

"Assuming we don't run into the Spic first," Mat added warily.

"They know their battle stations," Arthur said as he frowned at him, "If it comes to a fight, we'll give 'em one--I've already told them that,"

"One more question, Captain," Mat asked reluctantly as he looked down at his feet.

"What?" Arthur snapped, raising an eyebrow. Clearly, he was not impressed by the last question that Mat had brought into the discussion.

"You aren't going to try that Scrying stuff again, are you?" he asked quietly, even for him, as he looked up at Arthur. His violet eyes glistened behind his lenses, filled with worry.

"No," Arthur answered, "No, I'm not. And neither is Pearl," he added as he gave Pearl a stern look. Pearl put her hands up in mock-surrender, shaking her head.

"Don't have to tell me twice," she muttered.

"Good," Mat breathed as he grabbed the handle to the cabin door, "Right, then, I'll gather everyone up in about ten minutes,"

"Thanks, Mat," Arthur said with a nod, watching the man leave, "And Sam," he added as Sam walked toward the door to exit.

"Yes, Captain?" Sam asked as he turned to face him.

"I don't want _you_ losin' it, either," he said warily, "I meant it when I said there was no reason to panic,"

"Aye, Captain, I know," Sam sighed as he folded his arms over his chest, "It's just a lot to take in, that's all. I trust yer judgment--you know that," he added with a half-smile, "Just...watch out for yerself and keep us posted, all right?"

"Same to you," Arthur said with a nod. Alfred waited for Sam to leave before speaking up.

"Why didn't you tell them about how it tried to possess you?" Alfred asked after he was certain Sam was out of earshot.

"Wasn't necessary," Arthur reasoned as he walked over to the crate beside the bed to retrieve his hat. Alfred bristled and opened his mouth to say something, but Pearl beat him to it.

"Kind of an important point, don't you think?" she asked flatly, "The fact that it _spoke_ to you?"

"That's not something they need to know," Arthur insisted as he put his hat on, "It'd just make them panic. If we panic, it's over,"

"Can't you tell that they were worried about you, though?" Pearl asked, cracking her knuckles once again.

"Yes," Arthur answered curtly as he donned his boots, "Which is precisely why I left that out. They absolutely cannot be distracted from their tasks," he insisted, standing up and looking at Pearl sternly, "If they're distracted, and God forbid we're attacked, we're sunk. _Literally_ ," he stressed.

Pearl was silent for a moment before nodding and heading for the cabin door.

"I'll...be out at the railing," she said as she excused herself.

Arthur sighed, rubbing his brow tiredly and starting to pace around the cabin. Alfred took a seat on the mattress and watched him.

"You know I'm worried about you too, right?" Alfred asked finally as Arthur pivoted and faced him, "You'd better not leave anything out with me," he warned.

"I know, Love," Arthur said as he approached and sat on the bed next to Alfred, "And I haven't been leaving anything out with you, I swear," he promised, draping his arm over Alfred's shoulders.

"Good," Alfred said as he looked up at him and smiled, "I'm glad you finally got some sleep, too," he added. To his surprise, Arthur looked away and blushed.

Alfred gently cupped his cheek and turned the captain's face back toward him.

"What?" Alfred asked gently.

"I...well," Arthur stumbled as he turned an even deeper shade of scarlet, "What you...did...last night..." he trailed off, clearly embarrassed. Alfred had to admit, he rather enjoyed seeing him like this over something that he had done to him between the sheets, but pushed the thought aside.

"Didn't you like it?" Alfred asked, frowning and tilting his head, "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," he admitted, suddenly feeling uneasy.

"N-no!" Arthur blurted as he took Alfred's hands in his, "No, you didn't make me uncomfortable at all, but..."

"But what?" Alfred pressed, raising an eyebrow. Arthur laughed nervously, looking to the side before turning his gaze back onto Alfred.

"I'm just surprised, is all," he admitted with a half-smile, "I mean, when we met, you hadn't ever done...anything of that nature, and..."

"...was it not good?" Alfred pried, though he knew damn well that it was.

"No, it wasn't good," Arthur sighed; Alfred frowned at him, "It was EXTRAORDINARY," he corrected enthusiastically, green eyes glinting with a hint of lust, "Where did you learn to do that?" he blurted. Alfred's face split into a wicked grin as he shifted so he was sitting in the captain's lap.

"I didn't," he said matter-of-factly as he wrapped his arms around Arthur's neck, "I just...kind of made something up,"

"...really?" Arthur asked as Alfred laughed.

"Really," Alfred insisted as he caught Arthur's lips with his. Arthur happily reciprocated, rubbing Alfred's back.

"Whoa," Arthur breathed as they separated, smiling.

"I think you'll find, my dear Captain, that when it comes to _you_ ," Alfred said as he stood up and hoisted Arthur into a standing position by his belt loops, " I can be full of surprises," he added mischievously. Arthur grunted approvingly and fiercely kissed him. Alfred kissed him back, but pushed him away after a few moments.

"W-wha?" Arthur stumbled.

"You've got a meeting to lead, remember?" Alfred pointed out with a smirk, "Mat said ten minutes, so we'd better get out there,"

"...right," Arthur sighed as he headed toward the cabin door, "Let's go,"

* * *

Notes: "Caro" translates to "dear" in Italian.

"Sehr gut" = "very good"

"nein" = "no"

Greensleeves is a traditional English Christmas song. Thought it might be appropriate that Arthur would recognize it. **  
**


	16. Chapter 16

Lovino hesitantly opened his eyes, yawning. He had been having a rather pleasant dream about dining in Naples, actually, and didn't relish the idea of removing himself from it. He rubbed his eyes, sat up--and jumped about ten feet as he realized someone was in the room with him. The captain was standing in the middle of the cabin, silent.

"A-Antonio!" he yelped in surprise, "What the hell--you scared me!" he blurted. Antonio didn't answer him from where he stood in the center of the room, staring. His eyes had a hollowness to them that made Lovino nervous.

The Italian crept out of bed and cautiously approached the captain, looking at him warily.

"...Caro?" he asked as he stepped forward, "Caro, are you all right?"

No response--it was as if the captain was frozen, save for his eyes. Those blazing green eyes followed Lovino's every step. He gulped.

"How long have you been standing there?" he asked nervously, "You should've woken me up--I didn't realize it was so late already,"

No answer.

"...Antonio? Come on, talk to me," Lovino pleaded as he cautiously placed his hands on Antonio's arms. The man didn't speak, but looked down at him sternly. "H-hey, come on, you're making me nervous, here," he stammered as he stepped close and wrapped his arms around Antonio's waist.

"Are you okay?" he asked as he nuzzled his face into Antonio's shirt, "Are you sick?" he asked as he looked up. Antonio was staring down at him, expressionless.

Lovino breathed a sigh of relief as the captain slowly wrapped his arms around him, drawing him close. He gently rubbed Antonio's back, murmuring condolences in his native tongue.

"You look tired," he observed, noting the dark circles beneath Antonio's eyes, "Come, lay down,"

Antonio allowed himself to be led across the room and laid out onto the mattress. Lovino pulled the covers over the two of them and embraced him.

"You've been pushing yourself too much," Lovino scolded as he nestled into the other man's chest, "It isn't good to go without sleep for so long, you know," he added, looking up into the captain's face. He jumped--those eyes were focused directly on his, unblinking orbs in a blank face.

"Try and sleep," Lovino advised, gently reaching up and touching Antonio's cheek. He jumped as Antonio suddenly wrapped his arms around him and drew him close. "A-Antonio?" he asked, voice muffled as he spoke into the other man's chest.

"I won't tolerate it," the captain said softly.

"...tolerate what?" Lovino asked after a moment's pause. He shifted so he could see Antonio's face, but the other man wouldn't let go to allow him any range of motion, "Eh, Caro?" he asked, "You gotta hold me so tightly?"

"I won't tolerate it," Antonio repeated, a little louder this time.

"What?" Lovino asked as he pushed off of Antonio's chest and was immediately pressed back against it, "Hey, bastard!" he grunted, "Come on, let go!"

"I WON'T TOLERATE IT," Antonio said, almost shouting at him, but with a lack of expression in his tone. Lovino struggled as the captain held him fast, kicking at him and cursing to no avail.

"Antonio, STOP IT!" he yelled. He lurched backward and scrambled into a sitting position as Antonio abruptly let go of him, "What the hell's the matter with you?!" he demanded furiously. Antonio didn't answer, but slowly sat up. Those bright green eyes of his shimmered at him strangely, reflecting something unnatural as he leaned forward. Lovino couldn't look away, imprisoned in those eyes.

He yelped as Antonio suddenly grabbed his chin and frowned at him.

"I won't tolerate you plotting against me," Antonio hissed. Lovino's eyes widened in terror as he tried to shimmy out of his grasp, but...he couldn't. He was paralyzed, those misty green eyes holding him fast.

"W-wha...?" Lovino slurred, suddenly feeling very drained. The captain kept his grip on him and moved closer. Lovino whimpered as Antonio slid his hand over his face, into his hair, across his brow, and over his eyelids. He felt his eyes fall closed of their own accord and realized with panic that he wasn't able to reopen them.

"A-Antonio, what...?" he murmured as he felt himself losing consciousness. His mind was foggy, dull. What was happening to him?

"I know about what you're planning," Antonio said from somewhere distant, "And I won't tolerate it. I won't let you steal from me,"

"A...Antonio..." Lovino slurred as he felt himself collapse onto the mattress, smelled the down of his pillow. He had to get up. He had to escape, to warn Ludwig--

"Caro...please..." he whispered as he felt slim fingers ghost across his right temple.

"Thief," Antonio breathed as Lovino sank into darkness.

* * *

"Fratello?" someone called. Lovino vaguely felt someone's fingers on his cheeks, tapping them persistently, "Fratello, wake up!"

"Huh?" he mumbled, cracking an eye open. Feliciano swam into view as he looked down at him worriedly.

"Fratello!" Feliciano exclaimed as Lovino blinked at him a few times. His head felt like it was going to burst. He groaned, clutching a hand to his forehead.

"Are you all right?" his brother asked anxiously.

"Y-yeah, I think so," Lovino muttered as he sat up. He was surprised to see Kiku in the room with them, nodding at him approvingly.

"It is good to see you awake, Lovino," he said quietly, "We were very concerned," he added with a studious frown.

"What's going on?" Lovino slurred, "Where's Antonio?"

Feliciano and Kiku exchanged worried glances with one another as Kiku got up, cautiously cracked the cabin door open, and looked outside.

"What?" Lovino demanded.

"Well, we're at the cave," Feliciano explained hesitantly as he rolled his shoulders, "The Captain's gone onto shore with some of the others to check it out,"

"We're at the cave already?!" Lovino blurted as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. He immediately wished he hadn't, as his skull throbbed angrily.

"C-careful," Feliciano warned as Lovino took a seat on the bed and frowned at him, "We got worried when you didn't come out all day, so we came to check on you--"

"All day?" Lovino repeated, "What, it's been an entire day already?"

"Yeah," Feliciano said with a nod as Kiku returned to his seat beside the bed, "Everything look okay out there?"

"Hai," Kiku said with a nod, "The captain is nowhere in sight--I think he is still in the cave,"

"Good," Feliciano breathed in relief, "He's acting scary...I'm glad he's gone for now,"

"...yeah...scary..." Lovino trailed off sadly, biting his lip.

"Did...something happen to you?" Feliciano asked quietly as he tilted his head, "It took forever to wake you up,"

Lovino drew a shaky breath before explaining the events of that morning, trying not to think about how Antonio's eyes had taken on a life of their own, drawing him in...

"...what?" Feliciano blurted as Lovino finished his tale, frowning worriedly.

"He accused you of betraying him?" Kiku asked, "What would give him that idea?"

"I was going to try and take that stone away from him," Lovino explained as he massaged his aching temples, "Somehow, he knew about it,"

"Did you tell anyone else?" Kiku pried.

"Just Ludwig, but he wouldn't say anythi--oh _shit_ ," he blurted, looking up at Feliciano wildly, "Where's Ludwig?" he demanded.

"At the cave," Feliciano answered warily, "W-why?"

"We've got to get to him," Lovino blurted as he got to his feet again. This time, it went much better, "He might be in danger,"

* * *

The crew had been a little less than enthusiastic about Arthur announcing that there was a woman on board who would be off-limits. Some of them had flat-out booed as Arthur spoke, but they were quickly silenced with the stern look the captain gave them.

"That went...as expected," Mat sighed as he shook his head.

"Hey, I can handle them," Pearl scoffed as she adjusted her head scarf.

"You really should get into the kitchen," Mat muttered. Alfred flinched at the look on Pearl's face as she glared at Mat. Those brown eyes of hers seethed with displeasure.

"What did you just say?" she hissed. Mat turned to look at her--Alfred thought he saw what could have been fear in the doctor's eyes, but he could have been mistaken.

"I-I was just saying that you should get to your post," Mat blurted nervously, "The sooner you're out of sight, the better, I think...you know, until this whole thing gets sorted," he added with a weak smile. Pearl frowned at him as she headed downstairs to the galley, arms crossed over her chest.

Mat sighed heavily, clapping a hand to his forehead.

"I don't know how much more of these people I can take," he moaned, "Supernatural nonsense and now this? Ugh..."

Alfred couldn't think of anything to say to him, but settled for clapping a hand on his shoulder before heading off to assist with some netting toward the back of the Tern. He sighed; this was going to be a long twenty-four hours, that was for certain. He screeched to a halt as he rounded a corner and nearly slammed into Gil.

"Vatch vhere you're going," he snapped irritably, "Bad enough ve've got a voman on zis ship, but zhere's also clumsy idiots like you,"

"Watch it, Gil," Alfred growled.

"HA!" Gil guffawed, clearly amused, "A challenge, eh? I see you've been learning to fight--vanna test it out?"

"And have you end up tied to the mast again? Nah," Alfred responded coolly. The Prussian's smirk disappeared as he glowered at him.

He muttered something in what Alfred assumed was Prussian under his breath as he raised his fists, "All right, four-eyes, bring it," he hissed.

"No," Alfred spat as he moved to walk past him, only to be thwarted by Gil hitting him hard in the shoulder.

"Come on!" Gil challenged, "Vhat, too afraid to fight me? You know I could vhip your scrawny ass? Is zat it?"

"Go away, Gil," Alfred said sternly, "I don't want to deal with your sh--"

He staggered backward as Gil hit him right in the face. Blood rained out of his nose and speckled the deck.

At that point, something within him completely snapped. Before he realized what he was doing, he had Gil backed up against the railing and he was punching him repeatedly in the face.

"HEY!" someone cried, "Alfred, that's ENOUGH!"

Alfred struggled as a pair of arms tore him away from Gil and shoved him backward. Sam frowned at him with disapproval as he looked him over.

"All right, what the HELL is going on?" he demanded, hoisting Gil up by the armpits from where he was crumpled against the railing, nursing his bloody lip.

"This idiot punched me," Alfred snapped as he grasped at his bloody nose. It was still bleeding, dotting his hands and the front of his shirt.

Sam rolled his eyes as he turned toward Gil, who was cursing under his breath.

"Somehow that doesn't surprise me," he muttered, "What the FUCK do you think yer doin' startin' a fight, huh?" he demanded.

The Prussian didn't answer, choosing to glare at Alfred silently instead. There was something other than anger in his gaze, but Alfred didn't know nor care what.

"What the hell happened?" another softer voice demanded from behind Alfred. Mat frowned, looking from Alfred to Gil and then back again.

"These idiots got in a scuffle," Sam snapped as Mat pried Alfred's hands from his face and examined his nose.

"Ow!" he hissed as Mat removed his bloody glasses and pinched his nose bridge.

"It's not broken, but it's definitely bruised," he muttered, "Here," he said as he tilted Alfred's face upward and pressed his glasses into Alfred's hand, "Hold your nose and keep your head up--otherwise it'll bleed forever," he added flatly.

Alfred did as instructed, staring up at the sky miserably. He could hear some of the men laughing from nearby, but did his best to ignore them.

"Ugh, look at this mess," Mat muttered as he tended to Gil, "I patch up your friggin' head a few weeks ago and this is what you do? Really?"

"Shut up," the Prussian snapped, his voice nasally like Alfred's.

"You always bring these problems on yourself, you know," Sam said pointedly.

"I don't need a lecture from a goddamn Frenchie and a--OW!" he howled; Alfred wasn't sure what Mat had done, but he was certain it was because of him.

"Head. Up," Mat growled.

"Ja, ja..." Gil mumbled.

"All right, both of you get to the infirmary," Mat ordered sternly, " _Now_ ,"

Alfred trudged alongside Gil miserably as Mat followed them to the infirmary. Neither one of them spoke, but the tension was palpable.

"Siddown," Mat snapped as they walked into the small room, filled only with three cots and a table at the far end of the room covered in with what Alfred assumed were medical tools. He sank onto one cot, while Gil took the one to his right. Tense silence passed between the three of them as Mat grabbed some supplies and proceeded to clean Gil's injuries. The Prussian hissed as whatever was on a wad of cloth in Mat's hands grazed his face.

"You, I'd expect this from," Mat scolded as he continued to apply whatever it was, "But YOU?" Mat snapped as he turned toward Alfred and frowned. Alfred didn't know why he felt guilty, but he did. He tilted his head back toward the ceiling and pinched his nose in shame.

"Got enough goddamn problems on this ship without the two of you causing more of 'em," Mat muttered. The sound of fabric tearing announced him making a bandage of some sort. "What started this whole thing, anyway?"

Neither one of them spoke--Gil yelped suddenly (Alfred was certain it was because of Mat once again).

"Just screwin' around," Gil mumbled, "I started it, okay? I hit 'im first,"

Alfred blinked, turning his head slightly toward Gil in surprise. The Prussian was looking over at him, frowning, as Mat finished tying a bandage to a rather nasty gash above his eyebrow. Mat wasn't impressed by his statement, however, and smacked him hard on the arm.

"OW!" Gil yelped, glaring at the first mate angrily, "Zhe hell vas zat for?"

"For being an imbecile," Mat snapped as he plunked onto Alfred's cot. Alfred yelped as Mat roughly grabbed his chin and began removing the blood from his face. He hissed--whatever that stuff was, it burned.

"And _you're_ an imbecile, too," Mat pointed out as he took Alfred's face in his hands and turned it slightly to examine his nose, "You should know enough to walk away when someone's being an asshole,"

"He did," Gil grumbled quietly. Mat looked about as surprised as Alfred felt, turning and looking at Gil with a frown.

"Well...all right, then," Mat stumbled, shaking his head and returning to his task, "Here," he said as he shoved a strip of cloth into Alfred's hands, "It's not bleeding as bad now but you might need to shove these in your nostrils to keep a flood at bay later on," he added dryly.

"Thanks," Alfred said, frowning at how his voice sounded horribly nasal.

"All right, now for your punishment..." Mat trailed off as he rose and stared from one to the other thoughtfully.

"Huh?" Alfred blurted before he could stop himself. His stomach sank as an evil smile crept across Mat's face at his confusion.

"But of course," Mat said innocently, though Alfred was not liking at all where this conversation was headed, "I'm the first mate--I dole out punishments for people like you two for causing problems on ship," he explained, raising an eyebrow, "Although it sounds like Gil here is the one mostly at fault," he reasoned, frowning.

He walked back over to the other end of the room, replacing his medical supplies on the table. Alfred stole a worried look at Gil, who just shrugged at him.

"Alfred: you get to clean up the blood," Mat said brightly as he turned around. Alfred nodded--that didn't seem too horrible, "with your hands; no mop," Mat added as he tossed a cloth at him. Alfred caught it clumsily, frowning, "And when you're finished with that, I think the entire back deck could use a sound scrubbing--you'll be doing that, too,"

"...okay," Alfred said glumly, cursing Gil. He wanted to punch him again, but decided against it.

"And as for you, Gil: I think the cargo hold could do with some reorganization and cleaning, maybe get rid of some of the water down there...you'll be doing that today," Mat added.

"...zhe entire zhing?" Gil blurted.

"Oh yes," Mat said innocently, "And I want the entire contents of that hold inventoried and re-stacked. No slacking off, either--I'll be checking on your progress myself,"

"... _so_ not awesome," Gil muttered.

"What was that?" Mat asked brightly. Alfred fought the urge to shudder--for having such a soft voice, this man was absolutely terrifying when he was mad.

"...nozhing," Gil lied.

"All right, then," Mat said as he brushed his hands off, "Well, off you go,"

* * *

Alfred frowned as he scrubbed the deck with a beaten old brush Mat had given him. Of course there wouldn't be a cloud in the sky and unbearably hot out. Of course stupid Gil would get assigned to be nice and cool below deck while he had to work in the heat. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand and sighed, taking a moment to rest his arms. Seems they were getting quite the workout lately.

Jon was working on fixing netting a few paces away and eyed him warily.

"Don't let Mat catch you slackin' off," he advised, "He won't take kindly to ya shirkin' yer punishment,"

Alfred harrumphed and returned to his task as Jon cackled.

"Boy, you really got 'im, too," he commented, "Fuckin' plastered 'im to the railing, ya did," he added, pausing as he cut himself off with a laugh, "You know what, Alfred? Yer all right,"

"...thanks," Alfred answered hesitantly as footsteps approached from behind. Rather loud, determined ones.

"Hey, Alfred," Arthur greeted as he stood next to him, "Why aren't you helping Ward? He could probably use a hand downstairs," he chided. Alfred didn't answer, but stood up and looked at him. Arthur's eyes went wide as he looked over him worriedly.

"What the hell happened?" he demanded as he looked from his blood-speckled shirt back to his face, "Is your nose broken?" he muttered as he took Alfred's face in his hands and turned it gently from side to side.

"No," Alfred said flatly, "Just bruised,"

"How did this happen?" Arthur asked, not letting go of his face as he looked at him studiously.

"Fuckin' Gil happened, that's how," Jon offered with a laugh. Arthur turned toward him and slowly retracted his hands from Alfred's jaw.

"Gil hit him?" Arthur deduced, cocking an eyebrow and frowning.

"Yeah, but you oughtta get a look at 'im," Jon said with a smirk, "Alfred beat the livin' shit outta 'im--it was hilarious!"

"Did he, now?" Arthur mused as a sly grin crept over his face.

"Yeah he did!" Jon chirped excitedly, "Alfred only got off with a bloody nose, but he did a number on that ornery Prussian. That'll teach 'im to start shit!"

"I'm still here, you know," Alfred said flatly as he crossed his arms. Arthur returned his gaze onto him, tilting his head at him with what could have been amusement.

"Pardon, Love, I didn't mean to ignore you," Arthur said quietly as he put his hand on Alfred's face and slid his thumb gently over his cheekbone, "Mat check you out?"

"Yeah," Alfred said glumly as he held the scrub brush aloft.

"Ah," Arthur said with a chuckle as his hand slid from Alfred's cheek, "Well, it could be worse," he reasoned.

"...I guess," Alfred reluctantly agreed, frowning. Arthur's eyes practically glittered at him as he smiled and pulled him in for a kiss. Alfred blinked in surprise and barely had time to kiss him back as Arthur broke free, flashed him a beautiful smile, _winked_ , and sauntered past Jon and toward the other end of the ship. Alfred stood there for a moment in shock as Jon burst out laughing again.

"...shut up," Alfred muttered, returning to scrubbing the deck to hide the grin spreading across his face.

* * *

Alfred rolled his achy shoulders as he headed out of the galley with a half-eaten piece of bread and lump of cheese. He didn't want to dawdle in there with Gil lurking about somewhere.

He jumped as a hand suddenly smacked his wrist upward, sending his meal to the deck with a dull thunk. He frowned as Smitty laughed, clearly proud of himself.

"Whatcha gonna do about it, eh?" he challenged, eyes glinting dangerously, "I hear ya got into it with my friend Gil earlier today," he taunted with a smarmy grin.

"Nein, Smit," a nasally voice ordered from behind him. Alfred raised an eyebrow as Gil emerged, glaring at Smitty with the one eye that wasn't swollen closed.

"...what?" Smitty blurted.

"Vhat, are you deaf?" Gil snapped, "I said leave 'im be," he added sternly as he nodded at Alfred, who confusedly nodded back. Alfred watched curiously as the two men retreated below deck.

He jumped as Mat appeared from out of nowhere and nudged him with his elbow.

"Well, looks like you're making friends," he said with a sarcastic smile as he walked past him and into the stairwell.

* * *

Lovino steeled himself as he clambered out of the longboat. Antonio was standing at the edge of an outcropping of rocks, staring out at the sea in silence. The cave he had spoken about was more like a cavern--it engulfed the entire island, it seemed. The stone walls were perforated with all sizes of crags and tunnels leading within.

Lovino gulped, looking back at his brother nervously before progressing. The captain stood beside Ludwig, who, thankfully, appeared unharmed. The German did not appear at all comfortable, however, based on the way he was standing. He looked ready to bolt. He turned as Lovino, Kiku, and Feliciano approached and opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off.

"You're awake," Antonio observed monotonously, though he hadn't even turned around to see who had arrived. Ludwig cocked an eyebrow and looked from Antonio to Lovino nervously.

"S-sí," Lovino squeaked as he stood beside the captain. Antonio didn't look down at him, staring out at the sea with glassy eyes. His hands were shoved into his coat pockets, one of which Lovino was certain contained that damned stone.

"...so, Captain, when do we start looking for the loot, eh?" Feliciano offered, trying his best to be cheerful. Antonio remained silent for a time, unmoving and unblinking. Lovino fought the urge to shudder.

"I've already given the men charge to search this side of the island," Antonio drawled, though there was a hint of displeasure in his tone.

"Oh! Well...great!" Feliciano cheered half-heartedly, "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go!" he added, gesturing for the others to follow him as he quickly retreated.

"No farther than those rocks," Antonio warned as he pointed out toward a large outcropping of spike-like stones jutting out from the sea beyond the mouth of the cave.

"But...how will we see them from inside of the cave?" Feliciano reasoned, tilting his head in question.

"There's an opening in the cave ceiling near the halfway mark," Antonio explained curtly, "You can see them from there, and that is where you will stop,"

"Oh, so you have been in this cavern before, Captain," Kiku deduced quietly.

"No, I have not," Antonio answered cryptically. Awkward silence ensued as the crewmen looked at each other nervously.

"And...why only half of the cave, Captain?" Lovino asked, watching as Antonio's face split into a strange grin, one that he didn't recognize that didn't reach his eyes.

"Because Kirkland will approach from the other side," he explained, "I can't risk him seeing any of you and blowing our cover," he added darkly as the grin abruptly disappeared.

"Und how do you know zat he vill come in from zat side of zhe island?" Ludwig blurted, clearly dumbfounded. Antonio turned and glared at him, those normally bright green eyes of his examining him with disdain.

"Because that's where he will come from," Antonio answered matter-of-factly. Something dangerous flashed in those eyes of his, and Lovino didn't like it.

"Right, well! Off we go!" Feliciano exclaimed suddenly as he grabbed Lovino and Ludwig by the wrists and literally dragged them toward the mouth of the cave, "Bye, Captain! See you soon!" he called as they disappeared into the heart of the island, Kiku in-tow.


	17. Chapter 17

Alfred clumsily made his way through the fog, waving his arms in front of him and clawing for...something. Anything rather than the swirling gray that surrounded him on all sides.

"Hello?" he called. He shuddered as his voice echoed eerily back at him. Wherever he was, it was cold. He rubbed his arms as he trudged through the ankle-deep water, watching his breath curl out of his mouth in wispy white tendrils.

He squinted as a gray silhouette came into view ahead of him and picked up the pace, the water beneath his feet sloshing loudly as he broke out into a run. The silhouette materialized into a fairly tall, thin man holding a sword. He appeared to be fighting, drifting in and out of the fog as he expertly parried. Another figure suddenly came into view, swinging a sword down toward his opponent. The original silhouette blocked the attack and gracefully thrust forward, disappearing from Alfred's view.

"Wait!" he shouted as he ran, and the two swordsmen abruptly burst into view once again, though only one of them was clearly visible. Tall, thin, and donned in a bright red jacket.

"A-Arthur?" Alfred stammered as he screeched to a halt. The other man didn't seem to hear him and continued his battle. Alfred couldn't see his opponent, but whoever it was had to have been fairly skilled to give Arthur a run for his money. The captain wasn't struggling, per se, but the fight certainly wasn't an easy one. Arthur's brow was furrowed in concentration, green eyes intense as he met the other swordsman's attacks with the metallic clank of steel-on-steel. Alfred cautiously ventured forward, biting his lip nervously. Why couldn't he see the man Arthur was fighting? He squinted, trying to make out his face--

\--and screamed in horror as a blade suddenly shot through the back of Arthur's jacket.

"NO!" he cried as he dashed forward, only he wasn't getting any closer. Arthur staggered backward, eyes wide in shock as he silently coughed. A trickle of crimson burbled from his throat and over his lips, dotting his shirt as he fell unsteadily to his knees. Alfred ran with all of his might, but Arthur was steadily growing farther away from him, disappearing into the swirling fog. He saw him collapse onto the ground, a puff of fog the only sign of his presence.

Alfred screamed until his voice left him, staggering about and finally collapsing onto all fours. His shouts reverberated until slowly fading away into a crushing silence. He sobbed as he hung his head in defeat.

"...Arthur," he breathed, slamming his fist into the water with a resounding splash.

He looked up as a hand suddenly grasped his shoulder.

A young girl was staring at him, sharp blue eyes glaring at him accusingly. She was very pale, almost gray. Alfred knew she would have a gaping gunshot wound in her chest, but he couldn't tear himself away from those eyes to look.

_His_ eyes.

"Ange?" he squeaked in disbelief. The little girl frowned at him in response.

"It's your fault," she said, though her lips never moved. Alfred shuddered; it was as if she were speaking from within his own head.

"N-no--!" Alfred protested weakly. He tried to scoot out of her reach, but she tightened her grip on his shoulder. He winced in pain as her tiny fingernails dug into him, but couldn't move away.

"First me, and now him. It's your fault, Alfred," she said again, her cold stare unforgiving.

Alfred couldn't speak between sobs, transfixed by those bright blue eyes.

He jumped as she drew closer, her cold forehead brushing against his and making him shiver.

Her pale lips moved, but Alfred couldn't hear anything over the pounding of his heart in his ears.

"What?" he whispered, but no sound came out. He panicked as he suddenly realized that he was sinking, the cold water swallowing him up as he clambered for something to hold onto. He found his sister's arm, which abruptly disappeared.

Alfred sank into the deep, frantically trying to swim to the surface...only, the surface was escaping him as the water rose, higher and higher...

He screamed silently, a stream of bubbles escaping him as he suffocated, the salt water slowly filling his burning lungs...

* * *

"Alfred!" Arthur called as the other man thrashed about violently, "Alfred, wake up!"

He cursed as one of Alfred's arms found Arthur's ribcage with a dull thunk.

"Damn it, Alfred--WAKE UP!" he bellowed as he moved to pin Alfred down and smack him awake if need be--maybe twice, to make up for the bruise that would inevitably be forming on his side now, broken nose be damned.

But he didn't need to. Alfred shot bolt upright as his eyes sprang open and he drew a loud haggard breath. He gasped for air for a moment, staring straight ahead of him.

"You all ri--?" Arthur began, but Alfred yelped and scooted away the instant his fingers grazed Alfred's flesh. Arthur didn't persist, holding his hands aloft in mock-surrender as Alfred looked at him with positively feral blue eyes. They almost glowed in the dim light streaming in through the windows.

"...Arthur?" he whispered as he blinked. Arthur didn't have time to answer him as Alfred flung himself at his chest, wrapping his arms around him and holding him tightly.

"It's all right, Love," Arthur comforted as he embraced him, rocking him slightly and rubbing his back, "You just had a nightmare, that's all,"

"You were DEAD," Alfred blurted into his chest. Arthur frowned sadly, holding him tighter.

"Alfred, it was only a dream," he soothed as he gently took Alfred's hand and pressed his own into it, "See? I'm fine,"

Alfred pulled away from him and looked into his face. To say that he seemed worried was an understatement.

"You...got stabbed to death," he said quietly, barely audible.

"No, I didn't," Arthur correctly gently as he stroked Alfred's face, "See? I'm right here. It was just a bad dream,"

It was at that point that he noticed that Alfred was shaking.

"Oh, Love, I'm sorry," he said as he drew Alfred close and kissed the top of his head, "It wasn't real, Alfred. None of it was real," he reassured him. Alfred was silent for a few moments, almost to where Arthur was certain he had fallen asleep, when he suddenly spoke.

"Don't go anywhere tomorrow without me," he cautioned. Arthur hesitated, and Alfred pushed away from him and stared him down, "Promise me you won't," he added sternly.

Arthur grinned and tilted his head at him quizzically.

"Where would I go?" he asked jokingly, "We _are_ on a ship, you know--I can't run too far,"

"I mean when we get to that cave tomorrow," Alfred elaborated as Arthur threw him an incredulous look.

"You think I'd have you miss out on your first treasure hunt?" Arthur laughed as he leaned in and pecked Alfred on the lips, "Don't be ridiculous--of course you're coming with me,"

"...okay, then," Alfred consented after a moment's pause, eyeing the captain suspiciously. He drew a deep breath and slowly released it, staring into the dark corner near the bookshelf.

"Do you...want to talk about it...or something?" Arthur offered awkwardly. He was no good at this sort of thing--he never discussed his dreams with anyone. Partly because they were absurd most of the time, but mostly because they were a little too close to truth for Arthur's comfort.

Alfred shook his head and turned back toward Arthur, scooting next to him and leaning on his shoulder tiredly.

"No, I don't think so," Alfred mumbled, "Just...never mind," he sighed. Arthur wrapped his arms around him and nodded. They sat like that in silence for a few moments, contemplating.

"...you still awake?" Arthur said cautiously after a while.

"Yeah," Alfred answered immediately, "Sorry," he mumbled.

"What did I tell you about all of that damned apologizing?" Arthur teased as he playfully smacked him on the wrist; Alfred gave a half-hearted chuckle, "What do you say we read for a bit, hm?" Arthur offered, "Still haven't finished _The Odyssey_ ," he added.

"But that'll keep you up," Alfred pointed out as he sat up, "That's not fair,"

"Well, I'm up anyway," Arthur reasoned as he got out of bed and lit a lantern, "Besides, my favorite part's coming up," he added as he retrieved the book and climbed back into bed with it. Truth be told, he hadn't been sleeping in the first place. Every time he closed his eyes, he caught glimpses of that thing in the fog again, but that wasn't for Alfred to know right now. He wondered if Pearl was having the same problem...Mat had cleaned out one of the storage rooms for her to stay in for the time being--more like a broom closet than anything, but it would do. He made a mental note to check with her tomorrow.

"All right," Alfred said as he propped up the pillows for them to sit up and read, "And...thanks," he added quietly.

"Of course," Arthur said as he leaned in for a proper kiss. Alfred reciprocated, smiling a little as they separated, "All right, now..where were we?"

"Here," Alfred said as he pointed to the proper paragraph.

"Ah, yes. Thank you, Love," Arthur said with a smile as he began to read aloud.

* * *

Arthur turned the wheel as he squinted into the late afternoon sun. There were more obstructions approaching the rocky island than he'd anticipated, lurking just beneath the waves. They didn't appear to be rocks, based upon how the water moved across them, but there was definitely something there that he'd rather not beach the Tern on. Sand bars? No, that wasn't likely all the way out here.

He looked up as his first mate approached to his left, eyeing him studiously.

"What is it, Mat?" he asked, looking over at him quickly before turning his gaze back onto his task.

"Well, Captain, I'm just curious as to where we're going," Mat said quietly.

"Where do you think?" Arthur snorted as he pointed straight ahead of them, "To that island over there, where else?"

Mat hesitated, watching as Arthur turned the ship's wheel clockwise, then counterclockwise after a few moments.

"No, that's not what I mean," he sighed, "I'm actually referring to how we've been zigzagging in front of the island for..." he paused to look down at his pocket watch, "...oh, about thirty minutes now. I thought we were going to head in on that other side where you said there'd be less rocks," he added as he pointed toward the port side of the island.

Arthur cocked an eyebrow at him, frowning.

"You're serious?" he blurted, "Don't you see those things under the water?"

Mat squinted, frowning in thought as he adjusted his glasses.

"...what things?" he asked softly, even for him.

"Those...obstructions, right there--see? See how the water moves over them?" Arthur explained, gesturing toward said obstructions and adjusting the ship's wheel accordingly. Arthur looked over at Mat worriedly when he didn't respond. His first mate was frowning at him, shaking his head slowly.

"Mat, come on," Arthur insisted, "You can't see those? There are at least sixteen of 'em off the bow right now--look,"

Mat did look, and shook his head again.

"I'm sorry, Arthur, but I don't see anything," he admitted with a shrug.

"Stop joking around," Arthur said flatly.

"I'm not joking around," Mat insisted as his frown deepened, "Are you feeling all right?"

"I'm fine," Arthur snapped as he adjusted the wheel once more. He fought not to panic...could Mat really not see them? They were right in front of his face, blatantly glistening beneath a shallow covering of water.

"How have you been sleeping lately?" Mat asked, now with his doctor hat on.

"Like a baby, Doc," Arthur lied.

"Sure you have," Mat said flatly.

His first mate was silent for a few blissful moments before, like usual, deducing what was going on.

"It's that thing you saw in the fog, isn't it?" Mat said quietly, "Arthur, this is serious--how many days have you gone without sleep?"

"Only one, Mat, calm down," Arthur sighed, "I've gone for days without sleep before and been just fine,"

"Well it's impairing your vision," Mat decided, "Maybe you ought to lie down for a bit," he suggested as he put his hand onto the ship's wheel.

"Maybe _you_ ought to get some new glasses," Arthur snapped as he wrenched the wheel out of his first mate's grasp. Mat sighed, running his hands through his hair as he was wont to do when frustrated, which was quite often aboard the Tern.

"Arthur, listen--I'm trying to help, here," Mat said quietly, "There isn't anything in front of the ship except that island,"

"No," Arthur insisted as he shook his head and turned the wheel, "There are sand bars or something,"

"There _aren't_ any sand bars--" Mat said gently.

"They're _right there_ , Mat," Arthur growled.

"I'm telling you, there is _nothing_ there," Mat insisted as he stepped in front of the wheel, obscuring Arthur's vision.

"Mat, get outta the way," he ordered as he craned to see around his first mate. He glowered at him as Mat stubbornly remained in place, "Do you _want_ me to beach this ship?" he hissed.

"No," Mat said coolly.

"Then _move_ ," Arthur snapped.

"Why? So we can avoid an obstacle that isn't there?" Mat snapped back.

"Mat, we're going to run right into the damned thing if you don't fucking _move_ \--!" Arthur hissed at him, trying not to attract the attention of the other crewmen.

"We aren't going to hit anything," Mat insisted.

"Yeah, if you move," Arthur snapped. He moved from side to side, trying to get a better view of the path ahead as Mat frustratingly stepped into his view, thwarting him at every turn. Arthur caught a glimpse of one of the horrid things lurking just in front of the bow--they were going to hit it for sure if he didn't act quickly.

He looked at his first mate in shock as he went to adjust their course and Mat grabbed hold of the wheel. Arthur tried to wrench it out of his grasp, but found it difficult.

"Mat, for _fuck's sake_ ," Arthur hissed through gritted teeth, but Mat wouldn't budge. Arthur contemplated hitting him square in the face, but was too preoccupied with trying to take the wheel back, "Have you gone mad?" he accused.

Mat didn't answer, but looked up at him stubbornly. Arthur quickly reached up and plucked his glasses from Mat's face, tossing them over his shoulder.

"Son of a BITCH!" Mat shouted as he grabbed hold of one of Arthur's wrists and pinched it hard with both hands. Arthur yelped as his hand abruptly went limp.

"What did you do?!" Arthur demanded angrily as he shook his useless hand about. It tingled uncomfortably as he flexed his fingers.

"Oh, I should have done worse," Mat hissed as he glared at him, "And in case you haven't noticed, we haven't hit anything yet," he added dryly as he let go of the wheel and stalked over to where his glasses no doubt lay on the deck.

Arthur stared out in front of the ship, flabbergasted. Hundreds of those things lurked beneath the waves, forming a nearly flawless landscape in front of them...yet, the Tern coasted over them without event.

"What the hell...?" he blurted as Mat approached from behind and frowned worriedly at him.

"See what I mean?" Mat asked as he rubbed his glasses on his shirt and put them back on.

"But...what...?" Arthur stammered as whatever those things were abruptly vanished. He blinked, and they returned again, in a different pattern this time. Mat noted his discomfort and gently took the wheel out of his grasp.

"I think you should go lie down for a bit," Mat suggested, "I'll bring us in to the island...though I'll have to go in from this side now because of the winds," he added with a shrug.

"Right...thanks," Arthur hesitated, fighting not to completely lose it. What the _hell_ was going on?

"Oh, and your hand should be fine in a few minutes," Mat added, "I just pinched some of your nerves,"

"...right," Arthur managed as he flexed his fingers again. Feeling was swiftly returning to them, like hot pinpricks, "And, uh...about your glasses--" he said awkwardly, but Mat cut him off with a shake of his head.

"They're fine," Mat said, "Alfred caught 'em for me," he added with a grin, "Seriously, though--lie down,"

"...what do you think happened?" Arthur asked quietly as he heard footsteps approaching from behind him. Mat shrugged and looked him over.

"Could be sunstroke," he reasoned, "But I don't really know at this point. All we can do is see if you improve...I'll take care of things here, really,"

"R...right," Arthur breathed as Alfred cautiously approached. He frowned up at Arthur worriedly as he turned and headed for his cabin.

"You okay?" Alfred asked, "Mat said you weren't feeling well," he added with a frown.

"Yeah, I'm..." Arthur trailed off as he looked out at the sea over the railing. The entire ocean glittered with icebergs bobbing up and down innocently over the waves. Their jagged icy peaks reached up to the heavens, glistening with turquoise blue. He felt his jaw drop open as he hurriedly rubbed his eyes. When he opened them again, the icebergs were gone.

"...something there?" Alfred asked hesitantly, noting his discomfort.

"I...uh..." Arthur stammered as he looked down at him, "I'm just going to go inside for a bit," he managed as Alfred cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Any reason for throwing Mat's glasses?" Alfred inquired, sounding rather annoyed, "I looked up and they were headed right for my face,"

"Yeah...sorry 'bout that," Arthur answered absently as he walked along the deck toward his cabin. He pointedly stared straight ahead. He didn't want to look out and see what the ocean had in store for him this time. He stopped abruptly as he nearly tripped over something on the deck--he saw it out of the corner of his eye, sliding across the deck like--

Arthur yelped and plastered himself against the cabin wall, watching the snake slither across the planks, over the railing, and into the sea. It was at least six feet long and jet black, with a thick red stripe down its back.

"What's wrong?" Alfred asked from beside him. Arthur watched the snake warily as it gradually dove over the side of his ship, shimmying inch by inch into the water--

"Arthur?" Alfred asked as he waved his hand in front of Arthur's face. Arthur jumped, looking down at him in surprise, "You okay?" Alfred asked worriedly.

"Yes, I'm fine," Arthur lied as he stole a look back at the railing, fully expecting the snake to have disappeared. To his horror, it hadn't. Instead, it had managed to slither between the rungs and was staring at him with strangely bright green eyes. They weren't a normal color--incredibly bright green...harlequin, almost.

"I don't think you are," Alfred commented worriedly, "I think you should..." he trailed off. Arthur didn't dare take his eyes from that snake, watching it suspiciously from where he was positioned against the wall. Its tongue flicked out of its jagged mouth a few times, sizing him up with those eerie split pupils.

* * *

Antonio chuckled to himself as he looked into the glassy sea before him. Kirkland was petrified, he was certain of it. He'd be falling to pieces at any moment now. Oh, it was almost too easy. He smirked as he rubbed the smooth stone in his pocket between his fingers. Soon, he'd be able to fully emerge.

He froze, frowning. "Emerge?" Why would that word have come to mind all of a sudden like that...?

He closed his eyes, suddenly feeling quite drained.

It was only a matter of time before he could escape his imprisonment, shed this damned inferior body--

"W-what?" he breathed, clasping a hand to his forehead as it suddenly exploded into crippling pain. He clenched his teeth and waited for it to pass, breathing shallowly. What was happening to him?

Why was he thinking such strange things?

Or...were they even his thoughts at all?

* * *

Alfred looked on worriedly as Arthur stared wild-eyed at the empty railing. The look on his face was what made Alfred uneasy...traces of madness flitted across his handsome features, crept into those wide green eyes.

"What are you looking at?" Alfred whispered after a few tense moments. Arthur didn't answer, remaining motionless. Alfred took a step toward the railing, straining his eyes. Perhaps it was something out over the horizon?

"Alfred, don't move," Arthur warned, and Alfred froze.

"...why?" Alfred asked quietly, grateful that none of the other crewmen were working on this part of the ship at present. Arthur frowned, not taking his eyes off of the rail.

"Just don't," he said quietly. Alfred noted with a jolt that his voice had wavered.

"Arthur, I don't see anything there," he said as he swiftly walked over to the railing and placed his hand over the top of it.

"DON'T--!" Arthur cried as he lunged forward and grabbed Alfred around the torso. Alfred was afraid the man was going to fling him onto the deck or something, but he didn't. Instead, the captain stared in abject confusion at the railing, silent.

Alfred gently placed his arms around him and awkwardly rubbed his back.

"It's going to be all right, Arthur," he reassured him as Arthur tiredly leaned into his embrace.

"I don't know what's wrong with me," the captain said very quietly, almost inaudibly. Alfred looked up at him worriedly--to say that Arthur looked distraught would be an understatement.

"Let's go inside," Alfred suggested as he looped an arm around Arthur's waist and led him the rest of the way down the deck toward the cabin.

* * *

Arthur plunked into the chair tiredly, trying not to lose his stomach. That damned thing had looked so _real_ , though...the instant Alfred had approached the railing where it was coiled up, it had reared its head back and struck at his outstretched arm. As Arthur had grabbed him, the serpent had...disintegrated, disappearing in a peal of what sounded like shattering glass into tiny fragments. Fragments which never made it onto the deck, vanishing into thin air.

It wasn't real. None of it was.

...right?

He drew a shaky breath as Alfred sat in the adjacent chair and gently took hold of his hand on the table. Arthur squeezed it weakly, grateful for the gesture. It gave him something to focus on besides his rapidly unraveling sanity.

"Arthur, tell me what's going on," Alfred said, "I want to try and help,"

Arthur sighed, rubbing his eyes and staring down at the table for a moment.

"I...thought I saw something up at the helm," he began hesitantly as he looked back up at Alfred, "Like there was--" he faltered, watching a rather ugly black insect creep through Alfred's hair and skitter down his face. It paused as it reached his cheekbone, its antennae twitching mockingly. Alfred didn't seem to notice.

"Go on," Alfred encouraged with a sweet smile, "I'm listening,"

"...right, uh, at the helm," Arthur persisted, focusing on his lover's eyes rather than the creature perched beneath them, "I saw these obstructions in the water, and was navigating to...avoid them..." he trailed off as the insect crept over Alfred's nose and back into his hair. He fought the urge to shudder.

"What did they look like?" Alfred pried.

"Like...sand bars, or something," Arthur responded mechanically, still horrified, "Mat pointed out that they...weren't actually there," he mumbled.

"And...what you saw just now?" Alfred pressed.

"Uh..." Arthur mumbled as he looked down at the table again, frowning. Best to leave the bug part out, probably, "A snake," he muttered quietly.

"A what?" Alfred asked, leaning forward, "I couldn't hear you,"

"It was a sn--" Arthur started as he looked back up at Alfred. His entire face was swarming with insects, his eyes and a few tiny patches of skin peeking through the only parts that were visible. Their gleaming black bodies crept across his skin in a teeming black cloud, clicking quietly. A few of them fell from his face, clattering onto the table. They skittered over the tabletop, rapidly making their way toward Arthur and Alfred's entwined hands. Arthur felt nauseous, but couldn't pry his eyes from them. They rapidly fell onto the table now, tiny little legs making horrible clicking sounds as they marched in a neat single-file line and crept onto his hand, up his arm...

"Arthur?" Alfred asked worriedly; Arthur winced as the insects fell from Alfred's face in thick clumps as he moved his jaw to speak, joining the throng marching across the table. Arthur could feel them burrowing under the sleeve of his shirt, their spindle-like legs poking his flesh as they marched up and climbed out of his shirt collar. They were on his face, now, he was sure of it.

"Arthur, what's wrong?" Alfred asked anxiously, squeezing his hand. Arthur swallowed, trying to ignore the furious clicking sounds in his left ear. Oh, God, they were marching across his face--he jumped as an antenna skirted past his left eye. He set his jaw, trying to ignore the urge to leap out of his chair and frantically smack the accursed things off. He focused his vision on Alfred, who, thankfully, was now devoid of insects.

_They aren't real. They AREN'T REAL._

"Hey, talk to me," Alfred pleaded as he rose from his seat and put his free arm around Arthur's shoulders. Arthur cringed as a sickening crunch met his ears; Alfred's arm must have squished a few stray insects lurking beneath his shirt. He slammed his eyes shut as dizziness suddenly accosted him, reaching out and grasping the edge of the table for support.

"Whoa!" Alfred hissed as he clutched Arthur's shoulders with both hands and looked into his face, "What happened? Are you all right?"

"Dizzy," Arthur managed.

"Okay," Alfred muttered as he hoisted the captain out of his seat and helped him stumble his way to bed. Arthur sighed as his head hit the pillow, watching the room dance around. The insects had vanished, based on the lack of clicking in his ears, and were now replaced by the dizzying spiral of the ceiling beams.

"Any better?" Alfred offered as he took the other man's hand.

"Not really," Arthur admitted as he closed his eyes, "Alfred...am I...?" he faltered, frowning.

"You are _not_ crazy, Arthur," Alfred reassured him, "You're just ill,"

"Mm," Arthur mumbled as he hesitantly cracked an eye open. To his relief, the room appeared to be back to normal, though his head ached. Alfred's blue eyes were tightened with worry behind his lenses as he studied him from where he sat perched on the edge of the mattress.

"Thanks, Love," Arthur said as he squeezed Alfred's hand, "It's calming down,"

"Really?" Alfred asked, squinting at him suspiciously.

"Yes," Arthur answered definitively, "Thank God," he added with a sigh of relief.

"Good," Alfred praised as his face split into the most beautiful smile Arthur had ever seen. God, he loved his smile, how it made those dazzling blue eyes dance, "Care to tell me what the hell you saw? Remember: no leaving things out," he warned.

Arthur sighed and recounted what he had witnessed, watching Alfred's expression turn from concern to that of sheer horror.

"And...you don't see anything else now, right?" he asked worriedly. Arthur noted that he absently rubbed his jaw--probably imagining tiny insect legs marching along it.

"Yeah, it seems to be over now, whatever the hell that was," Arthur reasoned as he sat up. Thankfully, he experienced no dizziness.

"...but what was it, though?" Alfred asked quietly, "Arthur, do you think this has something to do with the Scrying thing?"

"I wasn't Scrying," Arthur pointed out as he shook his head.

"Maybe you don't have to be," Alfred suggested quietly, though it was clear from his tone that he abhorred even entertaining the idea, "What about my nightmare?"

"I highly doubt that they're linked, Alfred--people have nightmares all of the time," Arthur said to reassure him, though it was probably more for himself than for Alfred at that point. He did not want to reflect on a dream in which he was brutally stabbed, thank you very much.

Alfred didn't seem entirely convinced, but dropped the subject in favor of scooting closer to him and draping his arm across Arthur's shoulders instead. They sat in silence for a time, both men unwilling to discuss the subject any further.

"I guess we're nearly there," Alfred observed as the ship lurched slightly, announcing the anchor being thrown over the side.

"Yeah, I guess so," Arthur sighed as he got to his feet, "We should get out there,"

"Right," Alfred agreed as he followed the captain out of the cabin.

* * *

"S-something's really wrong with him," Feliciano spluttered as they paused behind an outcropping of rocks within the cavern. Lovino gulped, not quite certain of what to say. The others appeared grave, staring at the walls of the cavern in silence. In spite of the situation, the cavern was quite pretty, glittering with scattered trinkets, smooth stones that obviously weren't formed by nature and, unless Lovino was mistaken, coins? There were small items meticulously squirreled away into every nook and cranny in the craggy rocks, it seemed. How that was supposed to help anything, Lovino had no idea. Whoever had moved this treasure clearly wasn't playing with a full deck. Some of his fellow crewmen had begun greedily plucking items out from between the stones, but Lovino and his comrades were far too distracted for treasure hunting.

"So I take it our plan vas unsuccessful," Ludwig sighed, breaking the awkward silence and stealing a look at Lovino, who shook his head miserably, "Are you all right? Vhat happened?"

Lovino drew a deep breath before recounting to Ludwig what he had told his brother and Kiku earlier that day. The German's eyebrows shot up into his hairline as he listened in disbelief.

"But...how did he know?" he stammered as Lovino shook his head, "Ah. Zat stone," Ludwig murmured thoughtfully as he rubbed his chin.

"The situation is not good," Kiku stated quietly, "It would appear that the stone contains a fearsome power that the captain is rapidly losing control of," he said, causing the others to stare at him blankly.

"What?" Feliciano blurted after a few moments. Kiku sighed, frowning.

"There is some force in the stone that is making the captain act strangely," Kiku elaborated.

"Ah, sí!" Feliciano agreed happily, "But what is it? And how do we make it go away?"

"Hell if I know," Lovino grumbled, "I can't get near enough to the stone to get rid of it even if I wanted to," he added miserably, "None of us can, especially not now,"

"But--" Feliciano started.

"We could use zat British ship as a distraction," Ludwig mused, frowning thoughtfully, "Zat's part of zhe reason for coming here, ja? To ambush zhe crew after vhat zey did to zhe island?"

"Well, yeah," Lovino agreed half-heartedly. He hadn't exactly known the people on said island, but...he shuddered. Reinforcements, hired to rotate within Antonio's fleet of ships, but Lovino was certain that seedy bunch was doing more than just trading goods and doing what Antonio instructed them. Something was sinister about that bunch, and he never trusted them. Still, that didn't excuse Kirkland and his thugs barreling in and slaughtering them--or stealing their ammunition, for that matter.

"So we wait until the ship arrives, and then what?" Feliciano asked anxiously as he chewed on his lower lip, "We jump 'im?"

"No, we will need a plan," Kiku pointed out, "Listen to this,"

 


	18. Chapter 18

Alfred eagerly watched the island approach as Mat rowed him and Arthur in the longboat. The other men followed close behind in their own boats, lacquered hulls glinting in the late afternoon sun. He stole a look at Arthur, who looked rather grave.

"You all right?" Alfred asked quietly, trying to be discreet. Arthur turned toward him and dismissively waved his hand.

"I'm fine, Alfred," he insisted with a crooked smile, "You excited for your first treasure hunt?"

"Definitely," Alfred answered with a grin, though he noted the abrupt change of topic.

"As long as we don't run into anyone else," Mat grumbled as he finished his shift and handed the oars to Alfred.

"We won't," Arthur said flatly as Alfred took his seat and started rowing, "We'll be out of here in no time, with plenty of loot," he added, though Alfred noted how his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. The other men were mostly silent for the rest of the trip to the island, and the sun was just starting to turn a fiery orange as they finally arrived. Alfred cautiously stepped out of the boat after Arthur, who was looking studiously around the cavern.

"Whoa," someone said from Alfred's left--Tom had arrived with Sam and George in another longboat behind them, "More like a bloody castle than a cave," he noted. Alfred nodded in agreement, looking up at the enclosure in awe. It was a massive cavern, framed by towering peaks of jagged stone.

"Looks like we'll have to split up to search everything before nightfall," Arthur decided, though Alfred noted that he didn't exactly sound comfortable with the idea, "All right: get into groups and start looking," he paused, stooping down and pulling a golden chain out from between two stones at his feet. The crewmen of the Tern either smiled, nodded approvingly, or voiced their delight as Arthur held the chain aloft.

"Looks like there's going to be quite a bit to find," Mat mused as Arthur handed the chain to him. He looked it over, turning it over in his hands and grinning.

"Let's get going, gents," Arthur suggested as he strode into the cavern.

* * *

"This is ridiculous," Alfred blurted as he plucked yet another trinket--a bracelet of some kind, based on the size--out from underneath a stone on the cavern floor. It looked quite old, and showed signs of deterioration. Arthur laughed from across from him.

"Well, I'll admit that this is unusual," he said with a grin as he produced a weathered brooch from a crag in the wall and examined it in the light of his torch, "Usually treasure is hidden in one place underground, not scattered all over the place,"

"Why would whoever wanted this treasure hidden do this, though?" Alfred asked, puzzled.

"Who the hell knows?" Sam sighed as he scoured the far wall of the cave for other potential items, "Probably drunk,"

"Maybe," Mat chuckled, "But this seems a little more calculated than that to me," he reasoned with a studious frown, "I mean, look at how everything is tucked away into a nook or something,"

"Yeah, you're right," Sam agreed, "Whoever he was clearly wanted to be a royal pain in the ass. This is taking forever," he added glumly.

"You shouldn't complain about treasure lying right in front of you, Sam," Mat warned. Alfred moved away from them as he explored deeper into the cavern. He looked up as a stream of orange sunlight drifted through a hole in the ceiling. Strange, how huge this place was; almost like a subterranean city, with naught but small slits of light filtering in through crags in the stone. He grinned and extended his hand as something shiny caught his eye, nestled between two stones--

He froze as a hand approached the shiny object from directly in front of him.

He slowly looked up, his eyes meeting those of a man hiding in the shadows. He looked just as surprised to see Alfred as Alfred was to see him, teal green eyes wide. Neither one of them moved.

"Eh, Heracles?" someone called, "Hey, what the hell are ya--holy SHIT," someone blurted from behind the mysterious man. Alfred leapt up as if shot and staggered backwards, ending up pressed against the far wall as Mat, Sam, and Arthur came running at him.

"Arthur, there's--!" he hissed.

"Quiet," Arthur instructed as he put his torch out. The other two pirates followed suit, taking out their weapons and crouching low to the ground. Alfred crouched too, watching the others anxiously in the dim light.

He gulped as Arthur crept forward, gesturing for the others to do the same. Alfred tentatively followed, looking behind them nervously a few times before Arthur came to a halt behind a jagged outcropping of stones. He peered cautiously over the top of it--two men were standing in the middle of the cave, torches held aloft.

"W-who the hell was that?" the man Alfred recognized as the voice from earlier demanded, "You think it's that British bastard?"

Alfred stole a look at Arthur, who had stiffened a little upon hearing that.

"Maybe," the other man mused, rubbing the back of his head, "I...think we ought to get back and tell the others,"

"Right," the first man agreed as the two of them took off. The crew of the Tern waited until they were certain the others were out of earshot before speaking.

"Fuck," Sam declared.

"How the hell did they know it was us?" Mat blurted as he looked over at Arthur, "Do you think...?"

"Yes," Arthur answered tiredly, "We need to get back and warn the others,"

* * *

They sped through the cavern in silence, Alfred following closely behind Mat and Arthur as Sam brought up the rear. There was no telling where the others had gone to--they could be anywhere by now. Their best bet was to get back outside near the longboats and sound an alarm. Still, Alfred reasoned with a frown, that was risky--the enemy would know that they were aware of them, and--

He screeched to a halt as Mat abruptly stopped.

"Oof!" he grunted as Sam slammed right into him, knocking him onto the cavern floor.

"Sorry," Sam muttered as he got up and helped Alfred to his feet, "Oh, _shit_ ," he breathed as he looked up, eyes wide.

"What?" Alfred asked as he peered around Mat, and froze.

A man was standing at the mouth of the cave, the rapier in his hand glinting in the fiery sunset. He was tall, thin, and had long brown hair tied behind him with a bright red ribbon. His bangs bounced playfully in the breeze, falling into his piercing green eyes. Alfred gulped--they weren't deep and emerald, like Arthur's, but unnaturally bright, sinister. There was something unnerving about those eyes, the way the light played off of them.

"Hola, mis amigos," the man said suddenly, his rather handsome face splitting into a wicked grin, "It's been a long time, Kirkland," he added mockingly.

"Indeed," Arthur answered as he unsheathed his sword and began slowly walking toward him, "You and your men out for a little stroll, Antonio?"

Alfred's stomach plummeted. This was the guy from Scrying. The man the entire crew reviled. The one who Pearl and Arthur had seen, who was being dragged along like a corpse by that horrid thing in the fog--

He jumped as Mat suddenly tapped him on the arm. He put a slim finger to his lips and gestured for him to follow as Mat crept along the wall back into the cavern. Alfred cautiously followed behind, looking back at Arthur and the Spanish pirate worriedly a few times.

"You might say that," Antonio mused with a delicate tilt of his head, the feathers in his tri-cornered hat fluttering delicately behind him, "Although most of my men are busy tracking down some of your rats in the walls..."

Alfred strained to hear them as he disappeared back into the cavern with Mat and Sam.

"W-what are we doing?" Alfred asked as Mat hurriedly rounded a bend, looking up at the ceiling.

"Trying to find a place where we can fire off a warning shot," he hissed as he dashed farther into the cave.

"But then everyone will know where we are," Alfred pressed.

"They already do, if that Spic is out in front of our ship," Sam said sternly as he followed behind Mat and Alfred, "It's only a matter of time before we're swamped anyway,"

"Why couldn't we just fire off a warning when we were outside?" Alfred blurted in agitation. Arthur was still out there, face-to-face with that man with those strange green eyes...

"That would have put Arthur at risk," Mat explained hurriedly, "And we can't just shoot up into the goddamn ceiling in the cave or the whole thing could come down on us,"

"But what about Arthur?" Alfred asked worriedly, "We can't just leave him out there,"

"He can handle himself," Mat reassured him, though his voice was distant, "The best thing we can do for him is get the men rounded up so we can get the hell out of here,"

"There, Mat," Sam said as he came to a stop at the large rift in the cavern ceiling Alfred had noted earlier. Mat pulled out a pistol from his belt and fired--once, twice, three times into the evening sky. The cavern resounded with the sound of the bullets, though Alfred noted that they didn't explode like normal pistol fire. They popped once they were airborne, into bursts of blazing red light.

"Now what?" Alfred asked anxiously as Mat replaced the pistol in his belt and produced a second one.

"Now we wait and see who answers," Sam said grimly as he pulled out a dagger from his belt. Alfred mentally scolded himself for not bringing a weapon as the three of them stood back-to-back in the dim light of the cavern.

* * *

Arthur glanced upward as a series of loud pops filled the air--Mat had sounded the alarm. He breathed a sigh of relief. Now at least the gents had a chance, knowing that something was amiss so they'd have their guard up. Hopefully. He would have much preferred the rendezvous point to be outside where everyone could plainly see what the hell was happening, but the middle of the cavern would have to do for now.

"Couldn't just let this be private, could you?" Antonio sneered as he shook his head.

"I figured you'd enjoy the company," Arthur shot back, taking a tentative step to his right and hoping the Spaniard would follow, putting his back at the mouth of the cave so Arthur wouldn't have to worry about anyone running out at him from behind. Unfortunately, Antonio didn't take the bait. He stood his ground, mouth curling into a wry smile.

"I want my gunpowder, Kirkland," he said, raising his sword threateningly.

"I believe you mean _my_ gunpowder, Fernández Carriedo, and the answer is no," Arthur snapped as the Spaniard lunged forward and swung his sword--Arthur blocked him with his own weapon and a metallic clang filled the air around them. He quickly jumped out of Arthur's reach, frowning.

"And you killed my contract men, you asshole," Antonio growled.

"Yeah? Well I'm glad I did, after what those bastards did to my men," Arthur shot back as he took a step forward and swung. Antonio blocked his every attack, retreating backward as the two of them stared each other down. Arthur frowned in concentration; as usual, they were evenly matched when it came to swordsmanship. Antonio glared at him ferociously as he came at him with a yell. Arthur moved quickly, managing to deftly avoid each stroke, but only just. The two of them halted, each stopping to catch his breath and survey the enemy in silence.

"Did you enjoy that little storm of mine?" Antonio said suddenly as his face split into a wide grin. Arthur felt his eyes widen, but managed to keep his jaw from falling open.

No.

There was just no way.

"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about," Arthur said with a snort, though he felt like vomiting.

Mat was right. He had been absolutely right.

"Oho, I think you do, amigo," Antonio insisted as he put his hand into his coat pocket. Arthur watched him carefully, though he was uncertain what manner of weapon he could be hiding in his pocket like that. To his surprise, he didn't retract his hand, standing casually in front of him as if they were having a chat on a street corner.

"It took me a while to figure it out, but once I did..." Antonio trailed off with a laugh. Arthur frowned as his head suddenly began to ache, throbbing right above his eyes.

"You're full of shit," Arthur declared as the pain in his head intensified. He set his jaw stubbornly and held his sword aloft, trying to maintain his focus, "So you figured out how to Scry," he added, "Took you long enough. And then what? You pop up and try to send your monster after me?"

Arthur blinked as Antonio's expression abruptly changed from smug to horrified. His green eyes were wide and unseeing, looking at Arthur blankly for the briefest of moments before running at him with a wordless cry. Arthur parried and blocked the Spaniard's attacks as the two of them elegantly fought along the rocky shoreline. Arthur was slightly relieved when the other man finally halted his attack, wiping the sweat from his eyes as he prepared for another round.

"No...I won't..." Antonio panted between gasps, glaring up at Arthur though his chocolate brown bangs, "You CAN'T,"

"What?" Arthur blurted in confusion as Antonio slowly removed his hand from his pocket, his clenched fist quivering as if in protest.

"That wasn't part of the agreement," Antonio hissed. Arthur was about to ask him what in the hell he was talking about when a series of loud popping sounds echoed through the air.

He froze.

Gunfire, from within the caves.

* * *

"God DAMN it!" Sam shouted as the enemy clumsily fired at them from behind an outcropping of rocks, the bullets ricocheting and bouncing dangerously between the cavern walls, "STOP BLOODY SHOOTING OR THE FUCKIN' CEILING'LL--!"

He cut himself off as a figure swiftly approached from behind the rocks and swung a well-aimed fist; the armed man went down without a word. A second one followed, knocking the other guy out with a boot in the man's face.

Alfred grinned in relief as Tom and Caleb came into view in the murky light, Tom rubbing his knuckles after putting the now unconscious man's pistol into his belt.

"What are they, idiots?" Tom declared as he approached Sam and threw him a worried look, "You all right?"

"I love you," Sam murmured with a grin; Tom jabbed him sharply in the ribs and turned toward Alfred instead.

"Moron," Tom mumbled, red-faced, as Sam snickered, "You all right, Alfred? Mat?"

"Y-yeah," Alfred answered as Mat growled "Aye,"

"Where's everyone else?" Tom asked as he turned his back to them and took a defensive stance. Caleb followed suit, eyeing the dim cavern carefully.

"Coming, I hope," Mat sighed, "The Cap'n's gettin' into it with the Spic out by the Tern," he added.

"Oh, great," Caleb sighed, "So there goes our great escape, then,"

"He can handle himself," Sam reassured them, "We've just gotta get the others together 'n' we can jump the bastard,"

"And keep the other ones offa the Cap'n's back--someone's coming," Tom said suddenly. Alfred raised his fists and squinted into the semi-darkness; he breathed a sigh of relief as Jon, Gil, and Smitty approached.

"Zhe fuck's goin' on?" Gil demanded with a nasally voice as he joined the others in standing in a tight circle, facing the other paths in the cave.

"Spic's here," Sam answered, "Cap'n and him are fightin' out front by the ship,"

To Alfred's surprise, Gil laughed. He almost sounded giddy.

"This everyone?" Tom asked with a thoughtful frown as he looked the group over.

"Um..." Mat trailed off as he took a head count.

"What in the HELL is going on out here?" a woman's voice demanded. Alfred jumped as Pearl suddenly was directly in front of him and shaking his shoulder.

"Pearl!" Alfred yelped as Mat growled.

"I told you to stay on the boat, damn it," Mat hissed.

"Well I didn't, so shut up," Pearl snapped as she looked around, "So it looks like we didn't beat 'im to this place, then," she deduced with a sigh.

"Guess not," George said glumly as he approached from behind Pearl, along with a Scotsman Alfred could never remember the name of--Pete? Paul? Something with a "p."

"All right, I think that's everyone," Mat said, sounding relieved.

"What about Ward 'n' Tim?" Sam asked.

"They're staying on board the Tern for now," Mat answered as he shot Pearl a nasty look, "Unlike _some people_ , they know how to follow orders,"

"Shove it, Mat," Pearl growled as she crossed her arms, "So what's the plan now?"

"Now we--" Mat started as a loud crack filled the cavern. Gunfire.

"Aagh!" Tom cried as the bullet tore through his shirtsleeve. Mat expertly returned fire and the enemy went down without another sound.

"Shit," Alfred hissed as he joined Sam in looking Tom over. His hand was clutching his right arm as he grit his teeth in pain.

"Tom, let me see it," Sam said as he gently took hold of Tom's wrist and pried it away from his forearm. Alfred cringed; a wound in the shape of a halfmoon was on his upper arm, as if whittled away.

"Just grazed me--I'm fine," Tom insisted as Sam tore a strip of his own shirt to make a bandage. Mat pushed Alfred aside to have a look, deemed Tom's self-assessment accurate, and turned to look back into the dimly lit cavern.

"We need to move," he warned, "There'll be more of 'em poppin' up out of these tunnels,"

"To the ship?" Alfred asked.

"Yeah," Mat nodded, "We're gonna help Arthur out,"

* * *

The pain in his head was steadily becoming unbearable, a pressure from within his skull that bade Arthur's knees to buckle. He resisted, stumbling backward with his weapon outstretched as Antonio slowly stalked toward him. His sword hung in his left arm, which dangled uselessly at his side.

"The hell are you doing?" Arthur demanded as the Spaniard lumbered unsteadily forward. It was then that Arthur noted how the man shook, as if sick with fever as his outstretched fist trembled violently. His eyes were wide, staring at his own quaking hand as if horrified. His brown bangs were matted to his sweaty face as he muttered deliriously to himself in Spanish--Arthur had no idea what he was saying.

"Get back," Arthur growled as he staggered back a step, grimacing as pain exploded from his temple and blinded him. He saw stars before Antonio swam back into view, his fist mere inches from Arthur's face. He lurched backward and sloppily swung his sword. The blade found purchase in Antonio's coat, which ripped with a loud tearing noise.

The sound seemed to break Antonio of his trance for a brief moment as his hazy green eyes blinked and he stared at Arthur, wild-eyed.

"Don't," he warned as he took a shaky step forward, hand still outstretched.

"What?" Arthur demanded, hissing as his vision disappeared briefly. Oh, God, the pain was getting worse--it was like after that storm...

Antonio cried out and grit his teeth, dropping his sword to the rocks with a loud clank as he furiously shook his head. Arthur's jaw fell open in disbelief; the man was going completely mad.

"Don't take it--!" Antonio shouted, cutting himself off with a strangled cry as he lunged forward unsteadily, as if his outstretched arm was leading him and tugging the rest of his body.

Arthur cried out as the world dissolved completely into the worst pain he had ever experienced. He fell to his knees, grasping his head in his hands and breathing haggardly as he prayed for it to pass. He looked up as a thud reverberated through the stone he was slumped onto--Antonio had fallen to his knees as well, and was reaching out toward him. Arthur leaned away, but a searing pain burst through the back of his eyes and stopped him dead. He managed to crack one eye open, watching helplessly as Antonio shakily grabbed his hand and forced his fist open.

"Wh...what are you...?" he managed weakly as Antonio was abruptly shoved onto his side. Arthur threw himself backward and scooted across the rocks as he cradled his aching head in his hands. Someone had thrown themselves into Antonio and was grappling with him, swearing profusely.

He jumped as someone grabbed him from behind and dragged him across the rocks, away from Antonio and back toward the cavern. He squinted up, his head throbbing angrily at him as his eyes locked onto bright blue ones.

"Alfred...?" he murmured, but no sound came out. All he managed was a soft wheezing sound as the world disappeared.

* * *

"GIMME IT, GODDAMN YOU!" Lovino cried as he pummeled his lover with his fists. He had a firm grip on Antonio's wrist, no doubt clenched around that god _damned_ stone. Antonio grunted at him in protest as he flailed his arms, tugging on Lovino's clothing and trying to pry him off.

"GIVE ME THAT FUCKING STONE YOU FUCKING IDIOT TOMATO BASTARD!" Lovino bellowed as he slammed Antonio's hand into the ground and forced his hand open. The tiny stone shimmered innocently at him as it was thrown into the air and bounced across the ground with a series of delicate tinkling noises, like glass against slate.

Antonio shouted wordlessly at him as he struggled, kicking and flailing about indignantly.

"STOP IT," Lovino screamed at him, taking the opportunity to slap him hard across the face. Antonio stopped resisting for a moment, stunned. Lovino didn't hesitate before slapping him again.

"IDIOT!" he cried as his palm made contact with the other side of Antonio's face, "IF YOU THINK--"

Smack.

"--THAT I'LL LET YOU--"

Smack.

"--PICK THAT FUCKING THING UP AGAIN--"

Smac--

Lovino looked up as a firm hand grabbed hold of his wrist, restraining him. Ludwig shook his head at him, gesturing toward Antonio with his free hand.

"I zhink he gets zhe point," he reasoned as Lovino stole a look down at him. The Captain was staring blankly up at him, both cheeks turning a blazing shade of crimson which vaguely resembled handprints.

"Ah. S-sí," Lovino stammered as Kiku approached with Feliciano, pistols at the ready. Lovino vaguely noted that his brother was probably the last person in the world who should have a loaded pistol in his hand, but shoved the thought aside. This was no time for idle prattle. He needed--

"AGH!" he shouted in rage as Antonio kicked him off and scrambled to his feet, no doubt looking for the stone that had fallen from his outstretched hand.

"OH NO YOU DON'T," Lovino warned as he threw himself around Antonio's middle and fought to pull him backward. Antonio struggled against him, moving forward in spite of Lovino's efforts.

"Zat's ENOUGH already!" Ludwig shouted as he grabbed Antonio by the scruff of the neck and threw him backwards. The Captain scrambled quickly to his feet, his reaction almost cat-like in quickness and fluidity. He scowled at the lot of them with an almost inhuman fury, green eyes wild beneath brown bangs.

* * *

"What the hell...?" Jon managed as the Spic's own crewmen began attacking him. Alfred felt his eyebrows shoot up into his hairline as the slight Mediterranean-looking chap began repeatedly slapping the other captain in the face and shouting at him.

"...ugh..." Arthur moaned as he came-to, pulling himself up onto his elbows and frowning.

"Arthur!" Alfred exclaimed, relieved, "Are you all right?"

* * *

"What the bloody hell...?" Arthur muttered as he clapped a hand to his head. He paused, surveying the scene in front of him in disbelief.

"Yeah, I have no goddamn idea," Sam sighed as he helped Arthur to his feet, "Can we just leave now?"

"Yeah," Arthur answered after a few moments of him blinking at the crew of the enemy ship in confusion, "Yeah, let's get the fuck outta here,"

"You're not hurt, are you?" Mat asked as the crew of the Tern hurriedly made their way to the longboats, grateful for the perfectly timed yet decidedly odd distraction, "What the hell happened?" he added as he looked Arthur over worriedly.

"I...I don't really know," Arthur admitted quietly, looking around at his crew. His head throbbed angrily at him, but he ignored it. Tom, Mat, Smit, Sam, Gil, Pearl--why was _Pearl_ here?--Pete, Caleb, Jon...wait a minute.

"Where's Alfred?" he hissed as he looked around. The blue-eyed blonde was nowhere to be found. Arthur gulped as he felt his stomach plummet, "Mat, where is he?"

"I--he was just here," Mat blurted, joining Arthur in stopping dead in his tracks. The other crewmen followed suit, looking at Arthur worriedly.

"What?" Jon asked anxiously.

"Alfred," Arthur responded, "He's missing,"

"Fuck," Sam declared as he looked around wildly, one arm around Tom's shoulders to support him.

"I just saw 'im, though--he couldn't have gotten far," Caleb reasoned as he stole a nervous look back toward where the enemy continued fighting amongst themselves. Arthur followed his gaze--a tall, burly blonde man was involved now, throwing Antonio to the ground, and--

"Oh _shit_ ," Mat hissed from behind him. Arthur's face paled.

Alfred was rapidly approaching the enemy, staggering across the stones as if entranced.

Arthur sprang into action, dashing across the stones before Mat could restrain him. He reached out, his fingertips just barely grazing the back of Alfred's shirt as he abruptly knelt down and retrieved something from off of the ground. Arthur grabbed him by the shoulders and hauled him to his feet, pushing him in the direction of the longboats.

He frowned as Alfred abruptly stopped moving, standing rigid and silent with his head to his chest.

"Come on, Love, we need to get out of here," he whispered as he gave Alfred's shoulders a shake. He looked up as footsteps hurriedly approached--Mat and Pearl had dashed after him, looking Alfred over worriedly.

"What's wrong?" Pearl whispered, licking her lips nervously.

"I-I don't know," Arthur said worriedly as he shook Alfred again and received no response.

"He hurt?" Mat asked, stealing a look back at the enemy crewmen--Antonio was trying to fight off the intimidating-looking man from earlier, shouting wordlessly as he struggled, "Arthur, we don't have time for this," Mat warned.

"Alfred, talk to me," Arthur pleaded, reaching out and gently tipping Alfred's chin up so he could look him in the eye.

He felt his eyes widen as Pearl gasped in horror.

Alfred was grinning at him wickedly, showing a few teeth as his blue eyes gleamed at him.

"Alfred...is not here," Alfred said lowly as the grin spread across his entire face, his teeth catching the dim light.


	19. Chapter 19

Arthur stared at Alfred--no, not Alfred. Something else. Some _body_ else, leering wickedly at him from behind those blazing blue irises. He jumped as whoever it was tilted Alfred's head at him inquisitively.

"What is the matter, Arthur Kirkland?" the thing asked in Alfred's voice, contorting Alfred's face into a crooked smile, "You appear distressed,"

"Get out of him," Arthur demanded shakily, clenching his fists. To his horror, the thing just laughed, Alfred's familiar chuckle reverberating off of the stone behind them. Arthur snapped and grabbed Alfred's shirt collar, baring his teeth as he moved one fist backward as if to strike.

"Arthur!" Mat shouted and abruptly jarred Arthur to his senses.

"I-I'm sorry, Love," he stammered as he slowly returned his hands to his sides. The thing that was not Alfred glanced slyly at him, eyes flashing with something that made Arthur's dull headache worse.

" 'Love?' " the thing inquired as it began walking around Arthur in a circle, "Ah, this one is important to you, is he not?" it asked, grinning at him. Arthur flinched, feeling panic flood his chest.

"He is," the thing deduced with a nod of Alfred's head, "We _know_. Everything is here, in his mind," it added, pointing at Alfred's temple and tapping it gently.

"I _said_ get out of him," Arthur growled as he whirled to face whatever it was.

The thing that was not Alfred grinned at him, shaking Alfred's head mockingly.

"This body will not sustain us for long. Not like yours would," it said as something sinister flashed behind Alfred's sky-blue eyes.

"What?" Pearl squeaked, causing not-Alfred to snap his head in her direction. She took an involuntary step backward before regaining her composure, brown eyes wide as saucers. The thing raised one of Alfred's eyebrows at her, then directed its attention onto Arthur again.

"We require a suitable vessel-- _you_ are it," not-Alfred elaborated with a frown.

"What _are_ you?" Arthur demanded, though he felt like he was going to be sick. Alfred was in danger because of him. If he had never brought him here, this would have never...

"We have many names," not-Alfred whispered with a grin that made Arthur's skin crawl, "None of which you need to know," it added curtly, "All we require is a vessel. One that is...sensitive...to magic,"

"Magic?" someone blurted incredulously from behind Arthur. He whirled around; Sam and Tom were anxiously watching Alfred's expression, Sam's voice quivering slightly as he spoke.

The thing shook Alfred's head as it sighed, exasperated.

"You humans all ask far too many questions for your own good," it snapped as Arthur was suddenly wracked with a blinding headache. He clasped his hands to his head and fought to stay upright as hands suddenly grasped his shoulders. Someone was speaking, but he could barely make it out as whoever was behind him managed to keep him on his feet.

"...a vessel? That doesn't make any goddamn sense," someone growled from Arthur's left over the ringing in his ears. He cracked one eye open, the pain subsiding into a more tolerable throb. Mat's teeth were grit into a snarl as he increased his grip on Arthur's shoulder, glaring at not-Alfred defiantly.

"It does not have to make sense," the thing insisted as it snapped Alfred's fingers in irritation.

Mat went limp instantly, bringing Arthur with him as he hit the ground.

"Mat!" Pearl cried as she fell to her knees beside them and attempted to help the two of them up. Arthur stumbled clumsily to his feet with Sam's aid, looking down at Mat worriedly. His first mate was holding his hands to his head, wincing, as Pearl tried to haul him up. Clearly, he was experiencing something similar to what Arthur was.

_"¡Alto!"_ someone suddenly demanded.

Arthur's jaw dropped open as none other than Antonio lumbered forward, staggering unsteadily across the stones as he approached. One hand was outstretched to balance him, the other clasping his no-doubt throbbing skull. "Alfred" simply glared at him as Antonio stumbled, coming to a halt in front of him.

"This ISN'T what you promised," the Spaniard snarled, glaring up at "Alfred" through sweat-soaked bangs. Upon closer inspection, Arthur noted that the man was shaking.

"Alfred" remained silent as he caught Antonio in a level stare, frown increasing with each passing moment. The distinct lack of the personality Arthur had come to love on Alfred's own face made Arthur shudder.

"You said you'd destroy 'im," Antonio snarled angrily as he swayed, "Said you'd help me beat that son of a bitch--you didn't say ANYTHING about THIS," he practically screamed as he lost his footing and collapsed to his knees. He shakily rose, knees knocking together as he stood and looked directly into the creature's eyes.

"I agreed to your terms," Antonio spat, "But THIS was never in our agreement!"

"Enough," the thing spat as it nodded Alfred's head. Antonio cried out as he was abruptly flung through the air as if struck. Arthur winced sympathetically as the Spic was dashed against the stones with a sickening thud.

"CAPTAIN!" several voices cried as his crewmen rushed over to him.

* * *

"Antonio!" Lovino blurted as he joined the others in running to his side. The captain was in a bad way, a dark trickle of blood sliding down his face where it had collided with the rocky ground. He growled as he got onto all fours and glared up at...whatever that was. Lovino wasn't sure what the hell was going on, but Antonio clearly had an idea. He followed the captain's gaze, shivering as his eyes met a pair of icy blue ones. Not stern and blue like Ludwig's, that was for sure. Eyes like that simply did not belong on a human being.

"How dare you?" the... _thing_ spat as its eyes narrowed, "Voicing displeasure at us for your idiocy. Ridiculous," it declared as it began walking closer. Lovino's heart leapt into his throat as he and Ludwig hauled Antonio to his feet. The blue-eyed figure continued its approach, and Lovino tried to tug Antonio backward, but he simply refused to move.

" _Come on_ ," he hissed, but Antonio stubbornly ignored him as he set his jaw to face his rapidly-approaching attacker. Lovino stole a look at Ludwig, who was fixated on the creature steadily coming toward them. Lovino followed his gaze and froze--if those eyes were intimidating before, they were positively ablaze now. Twin blue flames, dimmed by a light from behind those irises that defied nature, set in a face that was not its own.

"We made your little storm. We gave you your fight with Kirkland. We enhanced your Sight. We hand-delivered him to you, hand-delivered you to the treasure you so desired, and you dare to insinuate that we have not held up our end of the bargain?" the thing hissed quietly, dangerously.

Lovino's grip on Antonio's arm was vice-like as he felt his mouth go dry.

A hand grasped his shoulder--Kiku--which normally would have made him leap out of his skin. At the moment, however, he was too paralyzed with fear to even manage to flinch.

He blinked as the creature suddenly stumbled, collapsing onto its knees. It chuckled softly, shoulders shaking as it laughed to itself.

"This...will not last for much longer," it taunted as it turned back toward Kirkland and his crew. To say that they looked horrified would have been an understatement, though Lovino figured he must have looked the same. He gulped as the creature rose and staggered unsteadily back toward the crew of the Scarlett Tern.

"What won't?" Kirkland demanded. Lovino guessed that the man that _thing_ had inhabited was someone of significance on that ship, based on the crew's--particularly the captain's--reaction. The first mate, perhaps? Regardless, this whole situation was making Lovino's head spin.

"This body cannot sustain us for much longer. We need a new, suitable host--and quickly," the thing explained smoothly as it collapsed again, grinning up at Kirkland with a smile that made Lovino shudder.

"Don't do it," Antonio hissed. Kirkland's gaze flew up to him, emerald eyes wide and uncertain. He locked eyes with Antonio, the two of them communicating silently for a time, it seemed.

"If a suitable host is not obtained soon, Alfred will die," the thing warned icily.

That got Kirkland's attention.

He snapped his eyes back onto that thing that clearly was not this Alfred person, face etched with anxiety.

"Fine," he conceded, stretching out his hand, "Fine, just don't hurt him,"

The creature smiled victoriously as it reached out--

"Arthur, no!" someone shouted--a woman? What the hell was a woman doing on Kirkland's ship?

Said woman stepped forward and abruptly slapped Kirkland's arm away, glaring down at the creature angrily as she stepped in front of it. The thing didn't look pleased with the change of scenery, glowering at her.

"Take me instead," she commanded as she stretched her own arm out in Kirkland's stead.

"Pearl, don't!" Kirkland hissed as he grabbed her other wrist and tried to tug her backward. She wrenched her arm free, turning and glaring at the captain from beneath wild blonde bangs.

"I have magical prowess--I know you can sense it," she continued, leveling Arthur with a glare as she bargained with the thing behind her, "I would make a fine replacement, just as much as Arthur would,"

"No," Arthur insisted, "No, damn it, you take ME, not her!" he bellowed as he shoved her aside. Pearl stubbornly reared her leg back and kicked Kirkland in the knee-- _hard_. He staggered backward with a surprised yelp as Pearl approached the creature once again.

"Well? You gonna do this or not?" she challenged as she extended her hand once more.

"DON'T!" Kirkland cried, but it was too late.

Pearl turned and looked at him with a sad smile.

"You can't tell me what to do, Arthur," she said softly, "You never could," she added as her delicate hand slipped into that of the thing behind her.

"NO--!" Kirkland yelled as Alfred went limp, collapsing wordlessly onto the ground in a heap as the tiny blue-green stone clutched in his fist clattered onto the ground. One of the crew members lunged forward and pulled Alfred's unconscious form away. A few of the others crowded in front of the two of them protectively as he looked Alfred over.

"Pearl" swayed where she stood, reeling for a bit before slowly rising to her (decidedly unimpressive) full height. She looked up at Kirkland with a haughty smile, that same unnerving glow to her deep brown eyes that had previously been in Alfred's blue ones. Kirkland appeared frozen to the spot, eyes wide with horror.

"This one...is a very good replacement," it commented in her voice, flexing her thin fingers as it walked over toward Antonio.

Lovino could only watch in abject fear as she stalked right past them.

"Wait," Antonio called, turning to look at the creature. It paused, looking over Pearl's shoulder, "What are you planning to do?" he demanded as his fingers twitched. Lovino knew that gesture; he was getting ready to draw his weapon.

"Pearl" merely stared at him for a moment before grinning softly.

"That," it said curtly as its eyes roved onto Lovino, "Is none of your concern. However, we will be taking your ship...and this one," it added sinisterly.

Lovino's breath caught in his chest as those eyes locked onto his. Trembling, he found himself unclenching his fingers from around his lover's arm, his feet unsteadily bearing him away.

"NO," Antonio said, though Lovino couldn't turn to look at him. It was as if his body was not his own, moving of its own accord. A metallic clang announced Antonio brandishing his sword, but Lovino couldn't see. He was...

He blinked--how had he gotten back onto the ship?

He looked around, finding himself at the helm. But that had been on the opposite end of the island. He had just been standing with--

He yelped as "Pearl" suddenly materialized in front of him, brown eyes flashing dangerously as she pulled her full lips back into a grin. Her wild blonde hair flew around her as the wind tossed it, no longer restrained by the headscarf she had been wearing prior.

"W-who are you?" he demanded shakily as he backed up, "How did I get here?" he added, his usual temperament swiftly returning as he clenched his fists, "What the hell do you want with me, you son of a--?!"

"Silence," she commanded curtly, and Lovino's voice abruptly left him. His eyes went wide, hands frantically grasping his throat as he fought to speak. All that he could manage was a pathetic wheeze, air rushing desperately out of his lungs but finding no volume.

The thing before him nodded, her grin widening.

"Much better," it praised, "We will be taking this ship. You will be doing as we command," it explained matter-of-factly, tossing a clump of Pearl's blonde hair from its eyes.

_"Taking this ship? Where?!"_ Lovino mouthed soundlessly.

"That is none of your concern," it warned, narrowing Pearl's eyes into slits, "Now, get the anchor up. We are leaving immediately,"

* * *

Arthur stood in stunned silence as Pearl--or rather, the thing that had taken her--abruptly disappeared, taking one of Antonio's men with her. He whirled around, but found no traces of them. It was as if they had both simply vanished into thin air. This wasn't just magic. This was damn impossible.

"NO!" Antonio cried, snapping Arthur from his stupor. The Spaniard was beside himself, whirling about and searching with wild eyes for any traces of them, "Not him, you BASTARD!" he cried as he turned his attention back to his crew and started barking orders at them.

"Arthur!" Mat called. Arthur turned toward him, panic flooding his chest as he saw the doctor crouched over Alfred's lifeless body. Some of the others had clustered around them, looking over the scene uncertainly.

"Oh my God," he breathed as he dashed across the stones and practically fell in front of them, "Mat, tell me he's not dead," he begged as his voice broke, desperately looking into Mat's eyes for any trace of good news.

"He's not dead," Mat reassured him. Arthur nearly wept with relief, exhaling a shaky breath and taking one of Alfred's hands into his own. He pressed on his wrist, the dull thudding from within warming him like a flame.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you..." Arthur mumbled to he wasn't quite sure whom, taking a deep breath as he looked over his crew. A sea of anxious and rather terrified faces greeted him as he slowly rose to his feet. He could fuss over Alfred later--right now, he had a crew to lead.

"All right, men, we've...got quite an odd situation at hand," he admitted, watching Gil's eyebrows shoot up into his hairline.

"Vhat zhe HELL vas zat?!" the Prussian demanded, opening the inevitable floodgates.

"Where did they go?" George blurted.

"What WAS that?" Tom asked.

"What the fuck happened?!" Smitty shouted.

"Where did Pearl go?" Jon asked worriedly.

"WHAT was with that BLOODY STONE?" Sam demanded.

"How the FUCK did that even happen?!" Caleb asked.

"ENOUGH!" Arthur bellowed at the top of his lungs, stunning his crewmen into silence. It wasn't often that he raised his voice, but when he did, it was heeded. The lot of them gaped at him, tension running thickly between them.

"I don't know what the hell's going on," he admitted as he turned toward the Spaniard's crew, "But I've an idea of who does," he growled as he gestured for his crewmen to follow him.

"Mat, Tom--you take care of Alfred," he ordered over his shoulder, eyes pinpointed on the figure in a burgundy-colored jacket addressing his own band of frightened sailors.

Antonio whirled around as Arthur approached, just in time to catch a glimpse of his attacker as Arthur's fist collided with the side of his face. He staggered backward as his men leapt into action from behind him, brandishing knives and snarling insults.

* * *

"STOP," Antonio ordered as he nursed his injury. He wasn't bleeding, but the pain did little for his already stabbing headache, not to mention the one in his heart.

Lovino. Where was he?

"W-what?" Heracles asked incredulously, fists raised.

"I _said_ stop," Antonio said coolly as he stood straight up and looked Kirkland in the face. The man was positively livid, emerald eyes pulsing at him beneath tufts of pale blonde. His men looked equally as pissed, glaring silently as they fingered pistols and knives at their sides in anticipation. One man with shocking red eyes disturbed Antonio the most--the crazed look on his pale, bruised face had all the markings of a psychopath.

"Captain," Ludwig warned.

"Stand down," Antonio advised as he stared into Kirkland's face.

"What the hell happened? Where's Pearl?" Kirkland demanded through clenched teeth.

"I don't know," Antonio answered truthfully.

He gulped as he was abruptly grabbed by the collar and pulled forward. Kirkland's nose nearly brushed his, they were so close.

"The fuck do you mean, you don't know?" he demanded, "You've been dabbling in some kind of black magic and dragged my crew into it, you IDIOT," he accused as he shoved Antonio backward. Antonio staggered for a few paces before quickly regaining his composure.

"They might be at my ship," Antonio suggested, suddenly filled with a fresh wave of anxiety. If that was true, there might be time.

"How?" one of Kirkland's men demanded--a tallish chap with dark brown hair.

"To the ship," Kirkland ordered, gesturing for his men to head into the caves, "After _them_ , of course," he added as his eyes flashed dangerously.

"Vhat?" Ludwig blurted. looking over at Antonio in astonishment.

"We are heading back to our ship, hombres," Antonio stated firmly, "And Kirkland and his men will follow," he said as he threw the other captain a sidelong glance, "Peacefully, just as we will," he added smoothly as one of his men gagged from behind him--Antonio assumed it was Ludwig.

Kirkland stared at him as if he had sprouted another head.

"We're both going to the same place here, Kirkland. We might be able to get your woman back if we hurry," he reasoned, "But we need to HURRY," he emphasized, fighting the urge to add "please." He'd be damned if he'd ask that British bastard for anything.

Kirkland seemed to understand, nodding.

"Fine. Lead the way," he conceded as Antonio led his crewmen back into the cave.

He prayed that if he was right, that he made it on time.

_"Hold on, Lovino,"_ he prayed as he dashed back toward his ship.

* * *

Notes:

Translations for Antonio:

Alto! - stop!

Hombres - men

 


	20. Chapter 20

Lovino's chest flooded with panic as his feet bore him across the deck of their own accord. He felt dizzy, and his head was starting to throb. He drew a haggard breath as his arms reached out and began the process of cranking the heavy anchor back onto the ship. It was something one man could handle, certainly, but not this quickly. The anchor practically flew out of the water as he cranked, landing onto the deck with a resounding THUD. Lovino winced; he was certain that a cracking sound had accompanied the anchor's unceremonious landing--Antonio would be furious.

That was, if he got there in time.

_"Where are we going?"_ he screamed silently, whirling to face his captor. The woman housing...whatever it was simply ignored him and sauntered up to the ship's wheel. Lovino followed, his blood boiling. That was Antonio's place, not anyone else's.

_"Hey!"_ he mouthed as he stomped his feet loudly in agitation.

"Yes, yes, we hear you," the woman drawled lazily as she looked up at the sails. They instantly filled with wind, a turbulent gale that nearly sent Lovino toppling onto the deck. He paled; this was crazy. All of this was crazy.

He scrambled to the side of the ship, frantically scanning the island for any signs of lanterns bobbing out in front of the cave. Antonio would come for him. He would find a way to stop this.

...right?

He just needed more time.

Lovino drew a shaky breath, steeling himself as he dashed toward the ropes holding the sails open. He hurriedly untied the first knot, sending the left edge of the main sail askew with a loud slap. It fluttered against the mast, hopelessly disheveled in the wind-

He screamed silently as he was abruptly picked up by something unseen and hurled into the mast.

Lovino groaned, his voice suddenly returning, as he lay in a heap on the deck. His back throbbed in-time with his heart, vision blurred with the force of the impact as his ears rang. He grimaced, looking up at a pair of boots.

"You need to learn your place," "Pearl" snarled as she jerked Lovino's head up by his hair. Lovino yelped, glaring defiantly into a pair of ethereal, glowing brown eyes.

"W-why do you need me, anyway?!" he demanded as he tried to jerk away, but her grasp was firm.

"We do not NEED any human," the thing spat, effortlessly tossing Lovino onto the deck. He scrambled to his feet, glaring up at her as he drew his knife from his belt. To his horror, she merely laughed.

"What's so funny?" Lovino growled, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

"Pearl" sighed, shaking her head as her wispy blonde hair billowed around her in the wind. It had calmed slightly, Lovino noted with a thrill. Perhaps if he just kept her distracted, it would give Antonio and the others time to get to the ship.

"After all of this time, you humans still have not changed at all," she said with a bemused smile, "Still obsessed with petty things. Money, power, revenge...all fruitless, and yet you devote your whole existence to them,"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Lovino blurted angrily, tightening his grip on his dagger.

She glared at him, scowling as she slowly approached, her large boots clunking loudly on the boards. Lovino unwillingly backed up, matching each of her footfalls as he held the dagger in front of him defensively. Those glowing amber eyes smoldered at him, like hot coals in her delicate face.

"We have taken you with us for the sole reason that you might prove useful. However, the _instant_ you outlive that purpose is when we will dispose of you," she hissed, contorting Pearl's face into an awful, twisted smile.

Lovino jumped as his back thudded against the rail of the ship. He whirled around, wide hazel eyes frantically scanning the shoreline of the island for any signs of--

"You think if you distract us, your darling captain will come and save you," the thing jeered, warm breath right against his ear.

Lovino recoiled, shimmying away and holding the knife in front of his face with a quivering hand.

"S-stay back," he demanded weakly. "Pearl" actually looked amused, tilting her head at him delicately as her glittering eyes strayed to the weapon in his hand.

"You still defend him," she mused as she folded Pearl's arms, "None of what has befallen you would have happened were it not for him, and yet you still make excuse after excuse--"

"Shut up!" Lovino growled.

"Just look at what he has done to your fellow crewmen, to _you_ ," she continued with a crooked grin, "His lust for revenge nearly destroyed everything important to you, did it not? His only loyalty was to his own desires, not to you, nor anyone else,"

Lovino's breath caught in his chest as he grabbed the knife in both hands, trying to keep his shaking arms steady. His breath came in shuddering gasps as the words struck a chord a bit too close for comfort.

_"I won't tolerate you plotting against me,"_

"N-no," he managed between gasps, "That's not true!"

"But it is," she said curtly, shrugging, "Even after you pleaded with him to stop pursuit of his vengeance, he refused. And after all you have done for him, sacrificed for him...does it not force you to question his true intentions?"

"NO!" Lovino bellowed as tears pricked the edges of his eyes.

"Think about it--what was he really thinking when he promised you he would stop? You recall that evening, yes? When he apologized, claimed that he loved you as he laid you out onto the floor like a--"

"STOP IT!" Lovino cried, throwing his hands to his ears, "THAT'S NOT TRUE!"

"Then why are you upset by it?" she taunted, "If you were confident that he loved you, then--"

"HE DOES!" Lovino insisted as tears ran down his face.

"Does he? Or are you just convenient for him?" she asked silkily, putting a slim finger to her jaw, "If he loved you, he would honor your requests. And, he certainly would not lie to you, would he?"

"You're wrong," Lovino hissed, "You don't know anything about him,"

"And neither do you," she said icily.

Despair crashed down on him like a tidal wave, shattering his resolve and sending him clutching weakly onto the rail. That...wasn't true. It couldn't be true. He wouldn't...

_"I TOLD YOU TO LEAVE ME ALONE,"_

Antonio cared about him. He..he loved him...

He stole a look at the black shoreline, heart aching as no lanterns came into sight.

Help wasn't coming.

Antonio wasn't coming.

"You see? He has abandoned you," she said smoothly from behind him, putting a slim hand over his shoulder, "He never loved you,"

"...Antonio," Lovino whispered as fresh tears streamed down his face and onto the railing. He felt weak, leaning against the railing heavily as "Pearl" gently ran her fingers through his hair. He felt himself surrendering to her touch, fatigue giving way to a strange numbness.

He vaguely noted her other hand stretching out in front of him. He looked up at her, blinking blearily.

"Hand that over. You will not be needing it," she reassured him. Lovino handed her the knife without hesitation, rejoicing in the smile he received in return.

"Very good," she praised, making his heavy heart sing, "Now: fix that sail,"

* * *

"SHIT!" Antonio cursed loudly as he careened to a halt. His ship was already too far to reach by longboat, propelled by a wind he knew all too well was not natural. Lovino was on board, being carried off to God knew where...but wait. Something tingled at the back of his mind, a steady thrum like a pulse. It grew stronger as he looked out at his ship, guiding him toward it.

"Ve're too late," Ludwig lamented, shaking his head.

""How the hell did they get on board so fast, though? Where are they going?" Kiku demanded.

"I don't know," Antonio answered hollowly.

He jumped as he was abruptly whirled around by none other than Kirkland, whose eyes were positively glowing with rage. His crew looked equally displeased, glaring at him venomously.

"All right, start talking," Kirkland hissed, "What in the hell is going on? Where is that THING taking Pearl?"

"I wish I knew," Antonio snapped as he wrenched his shoulder free, "But we need to hurry if we're going to catch them," he emphasized.

He raised an eyebrow as one of Kirkland's men had the audacity to laugh, shaking his head. The unstable-looking one from earlier, with crimson eyes and silver hair.

"You've gotta be kidding," he snorted, "You vant us to chase your fucking ship for you?"

"Yeah, go to hell, Spic bastard!" another one of them chimed. The rest of Kirkland's crew began shouting, prompting his men to shout back.

"We don't NEED your fuckin' help!" one of Antonio's men cried.

"Like we'd help YOU, after what you did to Timo 'n' Berwald!" another shouted.

Antonio locked eyes with Kirkland, who didn't look convinced.

"Arthur," Antonio said sternly, noting how the other man stiffened a little at being addressed by his first name, "We should--"

He was cut off abruptly as the silver-haired man lunged forward and caught Ludwig square in the jaw. The German man staggered back a few paces before retaliating with a roar, knocking his attacker onto his back.

It was as if a powder keg had gone off.

The scene dissolved into a blur of fists as the crewmen of both vessels had it out, the cling of knives being drawn and curses exploding into the quiet night sky.

"ENOUGH!" Antonio cried, but it had no effect. Kirkland hesitated, glaring at Antonio only briefly before rushing forward and hitting him between the eyes with his fist. Antonio grunted, staggering backward before lunging and landing a hit into Kirkland's shoulder. The Englishman grunted, throwing his fist back for another swing--

"STOP IT! STOOOOOOOOOOP!" a high-pitched voice demanded, on the verge of hysterical. Antonio immediately turned--he knew that voice, read the panic in it as if it were spelled out in the air around him.

All commotion abruptly ceased as all eyes turned onto Feliciano. The slight Italian man was breathing heavily, eyes wide in his pale face as he breathed haggardly.

"Feli--" Ludwig started, reaching out tentatively, but Feliciano was having none of it.

"NO!" he shrieked as he pulled away, stumbling across the stones for a few paces before coming to an unsteady halt, "NO! MY BROTHER'S ON THAT SHIP! MY BROTHER IS ON THAT SHIIIIIP!" he cried, stunning everyone around him into motionless silence. Antonio saw Kirkland cringe out of the corner of his eye.

"We...we need to save him," Feliciano muttered, looking down at the ground, "He needs help...HE NEEDS HELP!" he blurted as he snapped his head back up to stare wildly at the crowd in front of him.

"CAPTAIN!" Feliciano cried as he clawed at his face, "CAPTAAAAIIN!" he howled as he sank onto his knees, breathing heavily as he sobbed. Ludwig cautiously moved forward and put an arm around him as he cried.

Antonio slowly turned back toward Kirkland, who was staring at Feliciano with what could have been shock. He drew a deep breath, frowning.

"Kirkland, we need to go after them immediately, or we'll never catch them," he insisted, though his stomach threatened to empty itself at the prospect. Kirkland tilted his head at him, frowning.

"You want me to let you and your crew onto _my_ ship?" he asked icily.

"I don't like the idea either, but it's the only way we're gonna catch them," Antonio growled. Ugh, he just wanted to fall through the ground. But if it was for Lovino, he would gladly bear the shame.

"Why do we need to take you?" one of Kirkland's men asked, frowning. Tall and red-haired, with a scruffy beard and a hint of a Scottish accent, "What makes you think we won't just leave you here?"

Kirkland's crew murmured their agreement, shuffling uncomfortably.

"Because he can tell where that thing is," Kirkland said softly, eyes glinting with realization. Antonio jumped, surprised. How had he possibly deduced such a thing?

"Isn't that right, Antonio?" Kirkland asked sternly, raising an eyebrow.

"Sí," Antonio admitted as he drew a deep breath and released it. He turned to face his crewmen, who were staring at him with a mix of horror and confusion.

"Mis amigos, I'm afraid I...haven't been myself, lately," he said shakily. Words couldn't adequately describe his shame. He had been used, had _allowed_ himself to be used, and for what? A puppet on a string of his own free will, only to be tossed aside into the hearth with the rest of the scrap. And now, it was hurting his crew.

"But I can assure you that I am myself now, and that I'm going to bring Lovino and the ship back to us," he said sternly, "I can tell where that thing is going--and we're going to find it,"

"But...how?" Heracles blurted, shaking his head in disbelief, "That thing was...it was taking over you?"

The tension was palpable at that statement. Antonio's heart sank as he saw the horror creep over the faces of his crewmen, the men who had trusted him, been loyal to him. And he had rewarded their trust by leading them into danger.

"I'm not proud of what I've done," he admitted, locking eyes with each of his men in-turn, "And if you want to leave after this, I won't hold it against you. But...first, I need to fix my mistakes," he said quietly as he turned back toward Kirkland.

"There's a good chance I can track them down, if we hurry," he explained, "And we'll get Pearl back as well," he added, noting the iciness to Kirkland's face. The other captain glared at him as he drew a deep breath.

"And what of Alfred?" he hissed, "What's wrong with him?"

Antonio hesitated, frowning. Best to be truthful, considering the situation--this Alfred person seemed of great importance.

"He doesn't have magical ability," Antonio answered as patiently as he could, "It was a shock to sustain that entity--he's probably just exhausted,"

"And it's still feeding off of him now, isn't it? It still has a connection to _you_ ," Kirkland spat. Antonio noted how his clenched fists trembled at his sides.

"I...I don't know," Antonio admitted sheepishly, "It's possible. But if we manage to stop this thing..." he trailed off as Kirkland turned back to his crew.

* * *

Arthur whirled back toward his crewmen, mind racing. He was running out of time.

"Gents, I...I think this is the only chance we've got to help Pearl and Alfred, and--"

"Aye, Captain," Sam said firmly with a nod of his head. Arthur just blinked at him in shock.

"Aye," said Caleb as he raised his fist. Smitty looked at him as if he'd grown another head. He heaved a heavy sigh before muttering "Aye" as well, frowning deeply.

"Aye," each of them said in-turn, nodding to affirm his faith in Arthur's judgment. Were the situation not so grave, Arthur would have laughed. They trusted him so--hopefully he was right on this one. He had to be, for Alfred. For Pearl.

_"Just hold on, you two,"_ he thought to himself.

"All right, then," Arthur sighed as he turned back toward Antonio. The Spaniard looked exhausted, his face bruised and dirty from their scuffle from earlier. Arthur wagered he didn't look much better. No words were exchanged; none were needed.

"We are guests on this ship, hombres," Antonio warned to his crewmen, "Any funny business and I'll see to it myself that whoever's responsible walks the plank. Got it?"

A chorus of "Aye, Captain"s resounded from his men as he turned back toward Arthur once again.

"To the longboats, then," Antonio added. As his men scurried toward their boats, Arthur caught him with a level stare.

"I swear to God, if you're wrong about this," he threatened, eyes glittering with emerald fire, "I won't hesitate to slit your goddamn throat,"

Antonio merely nodded, gesturing for Arthur to lead the way.

 


	21. Chapter 21

"What in the hell--?" Ward spluttered in disbelief as Arthur followed none other than Antonio onto the deck of the Tern. He had a firm grip on the back of the man's coat, yanking on it and making the Spaniard gag.

"We've got company," Arthur growled as he shoved Antonio forward. He stumbled, throwing a nasty glare at Arthur and cursing under his breath.

"We're gonna need ropes. Lots of them," he added. Ward arched an eyebrow at him before hobbling to retrieve what Arthur had requested. The rest of the crew ascended behind him, exchanging less than friendly quips with their very much unwanted guests as the rival pirates glared at one another dangerously.

Arthur exhaled slowly, turning to survey his surroundings. Antonio's men were being rounded up and secured. As for Alfred, Mat had taken him and Tom to the infirmary. He squinted into the darkening night sky with a frown. The moon and stars were obscured by dark clouds, of course, making navigation near impossible. Without a decent view of the stars or a source of light, finding Antonio's stolen ship wouldn't be an easy task. He turned to glare at Antonio briefly before pushing him toward the other members of his crew--he had better not be lying about being able to tell where that goddamn thing was going. Antonio's eyes flashed dangerously at him, Sam's hands firmly grasped around his wrists as Caleb deftly wound a rope around them.

He turned as footsteps rapidly bounded in his direction.

"So now what?" Mat hissed into his ear in agitation. He had set about the task of having the others tie up the rival crewmen, binding their wrists to ensure that they wouldn't be a problem. They were assembled in the middle of the deck, seated in a silent, brooding huddle. The crewmen of the Tern stood around them, weapons in hand.

"Now we get after them," Arthur explained, "Hoist the anchor--quickly!" he called to Smitty, who nodded and ran toward the stern.

"In the _dark_?" Mat blurted incredulously, "Arthur, we can't see anything,"

"We won't need to," Arthur said cryptically as he grabbed Antonio's shoulder and roughly spun him around. The Spaniard cussed loudly as he nearly lost his balance.

"Watch it, Kirkland," he growled viciously as Jon emerged to keep an eye on him.

"Up the steps," Arthur snapped as he pushed him toward the helm, "Now,"

He paused as Mat grabbed onto his arm.

"Arthur, for fuck's sake," he hissed anxiously, lenses reflecting in the orange glow of the lanterns on the deck, "I need more information than that,"

Arthur nodded at Jon, who shoved Antonio toward the stairwell. Antonio spat some choice words at him in Spanish as he ascended the steps.

"He can tell where they're going, Mat," Arthur explained hurriedly, "We need to get after them before his connection gets too weak,"

Mat frowned at him in the lantern light, shaking his head.

"Even so, Arthur, we'll never catch them," Mat said with a frown, "I mean you saw how fast they were--"

"So what, Mat?" Arthur snapped, glaring at him, "We just give up on Pearl?"

Mat hesitated, frowning thoughtfully as he exhaled loudly through his nose.

"That's not what I said," he insisted, "I'm just saying--"

"No," Arthur snapped, cutting him off, "I am not about to abandon my friend, not to mention this thing still has a hold over Alfred,"

His first mate paled, or at least Arthur thought he had--it was difficult to discern in the dim light.

"...how is he?" Arthur asked quietly, anxiously.

"Same," Mat answered with a nervous gulp, "I'm having Tom keep an eye on him,"

"Good, do that," Arthur said as George approached, brandishing a torch, "Well?" he asked.

"Ready to go, Cap'n," George answered breathlessly. Arthur nodded at him before dashing up the stairs leading to the helm, leaving a very uneasy doctor behind. He bounded up the steps two at a time, screeching to a halt in front of the ship's wheel where Jon and Antonio waited. The Spaniard was staring out into the black night, toward the northeast.

"That way?" Arthur asked anxiously as he gripped the ship's wheel.

"Sí," Antonio answered with a definitive nod, "They went that way,"

Arthur cranked the wheel to accommodate said trajectory, nodding at Jon silently. He took off down the steps to get the sails adjusted, barking orders at the others as he relayed information.

"They'll have to slow down soon," Antonio said cryptically as Arthur arched an eyebrow at him.

"And you know that...how?" Arthur asked.

Antonio turned toward him, eyes alight in the orange glow of the lantern.

"That thing gets weak when it...changes hosts," he said with a shudder, "I didn't feel anything when I first picked up that stone," he growled, shaking his head, "If only I'd just left it..."

Arthur turned away from him angrily, staring out into the dark. That thing had hurt Alfred, and he could only guess what was happening to poor Pearl. He swallowed, gripping the ship's wheel more tightly than was necessary.

"Kirkland," Antonio said suddenly, not taking his eyes from that point in the vast inky blackness, "I...I think--"

"Shut up," Arthur snapped.

"I just--"

"No."

"Kirkland, listen to m--"

"NO."

Arthur frowned as the other captain stomped his foot in irritation.

"And quit scuffing my deck," he growled irritably.

Antonio fell silent for a time, leaving Arthur to his frantic thoughts. They were losing time--what if they couldn't catch up? And even if they did, what would they do? What _could_ they do? It wasn't as if he knew how to extract whatever that thing was from Pearl, nor how to stop it from whatever it was doing to Alfred--

"Arthur," Antonio said suddenly. Arthur didn't answer, tightening his grip on the wheel in silence unbroken save for the squeaking of the lantern above the two of them.

"...how is your crewman faring?" he continued.

"Which one?" Arthur snapped, "The one who's got a bullet wound or the one being mind-fucked by a demon?" he spat bitterly.

Antonio made a gagging sound, causing Arthur to turn and glare at him. Blazing emerald eyes met bright harlequin ones, one brimming with rage and the other with...something. Not that Arthur cared what it was. Bloody bastard was the reason all of this had happened in the first place.

"If it weren't for you being able to tell where that thing is, I'dve killed you by now," Arthur threatened softly, "Along with that ragtag bunch of cretins you're with,"

"Yo sé," Antonio sighed. Arthur arched an eyebrow--not even a physical response to his challenge? He almost sounded defeated.

"What?" Arthur demanded with a frown.

"I said I _know_ , Kirkland," Antonio growled as he returned the frown, "But this needs to be done first," he added sadly as he stared blankly into the dark night.

"What do you propose we do once we catch up?" Arthur asked suddenly, his nerves getting the better of him as he blurted it out.

Antonio flicked his eyes over to him briefly before staring down at the ship's wheel; Arthur turned it slightly. This was his ship, damn it, and it would do for the Spic bastard to remember it. Antonio had the audacity to smirk at the gesture but spoke before Arthur could slam his fist into his stupid skull.

"No sé," he breathed. He moved as if to put a hand to his face, but was thwarted by his bindings. He cursed softly in his native tongue as Arthur blinked incredulously.

"Did you just say you don't KNOW?" he shouted, grabbing Antonio by the shoulders and shaking roughly, "You Spic son of a BITCH I'M GONNA KILL YOU--!" he cried as his other hand formed a fist.

" _Sí_ , go ahead and kill me!" Antonio challenged with a snarl, "Go on and just destroy the only chance you have at saving your woman!"

"She's not my woman!" Arthur hissed angrily.

Antonio's agitated front quickly dissolved into one of confusion.

"She's my _friend_ , you goddamn Dago," Arthur elaborated angrily as he shoved Antonio backwards. He staggered a few paces and tripped over a cleat on the planks. He yelped as he stumbled, regaining his footing and glaring at Arthur dangerously, "And it's _your_ fault she's in danger. That all of us are, you imbecile,"

Antonio was quiet for a moment, nodding.

"I...admit this was not my finest plan--" Antonio said with a shrug.

"Finest?" Arthur asked flatly as he snorted, "Well I'd certainly hate to see your _best_ work, then--"

"Shut up, Kirkland!" Antonio snapped as he struggled against his bonds, "You think I'dve agreed to be fucking tied up if I wasn't serious about this?!" he practically shrieked.

Arthur folded his arms over his chest as he glared at him. Antonio glared right back as the orange light of the lantern slid across his stern face. Something in his eyes bothered Arthur, a glint of something wild.

"Lovino is on that ship-- _my_ ship," Antonio growled as he closed the distance between them; Arthur remained motionless, glaring at the other man defiantly.

"I am not about to abandon him, Kirkland, nor am I going to surrender my ship," he added icily, a stern frown forming on his lips. It looked strange on him, somehow, considering that every time Arthur had seen him he had a smarmy grin plastered onto his face.

"If I get close enough, I...there might be something I can do," Antonio continued uncertainly, casting his gaze out at the black sea.

"Like...?" Arthur pried.

Antonio looked up at him, narrowing his eyes.

"You know what I'm talking about," he stated quietly.

Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Oh come off it, you intend to Scry?" he demanded as he pinched his nose bridge tiredly. His headache was getting worse from all of this nonsense, " _That's_ your 'finest' plan?"

"You have a better idea?" Antonio asked coolly, "That's the only time we're on the same plane, _bastardo_. I may be able to throw it off somehow. Create a distraction,"

"And then what?" Arthur blurted as he threw his hands into the air, "We just march in there and yank whatever that thing is out of Pearl? Is that it? Because that's the most idiotic, half-assed plan I've ever--"

"Captain!" someone shouted. Arthur spun around as Jon came bounding onto the deck, torch in-hand and looking rather disheveled.

"What is it?" Arthur asked worriedly.

"T-there's light ahead, Captain," Jon stammered, "I think it's the other ship,"

"Already?" Arthur blurted as he looked out into the sea. Sure enough, a pinprick of light lay in the distance, rapidly closing in. A thrill of hope ran through him as Arthur smiled for the first time in several hours that evening.

"Good," Arthur praised as he nodded. He could do this. He was almost there.

"Shall I tell Mat to...?" Jon asked uncertainly, stealing nervous glance at Antonio.

"Aye, tell 'im to get us ready for a fight," Arthur ordered with a stern nod. Jon nodded back before bounding down the steps again, onto the main deck.

Arthur looked over at Antonio, who looked grave.

This was it.

* * *

Tom paced around the infirmary worriedly, nursing his injured arm where it lay in a tattered cloth sling. He didn't like this situation one bit. The enemy on board of their ship, chasing down the enemy vessel in the dark with no means of navigation--it didn't make any sense. He couldn't help but wonder if Fernández Carriedo had cooked up some scheme to take the Tern by force. Terrifying them with something no thinking person could explain was certainly an excuse to get his crewmen on board. Like the Trojan Horse, he mused bitterly.

"This is crazy," he declared as he waved his good arm, "What the hell are we supposed to do, sit here and let that Spic bastard send us all over kingdom come?" he added as he turned to the only other occupant of the room. Alfred was still unconscious, his face pale and sickly where he lay on one of the cots. Tom frowned sadly; he hadn't recalled Alfred looking in such a sorry state, even when he had gotten seasick when that storm had hit.

The storm which, Mat informed him before storming out onto the deck to demand an explanation from Arthur on what the fuck was happening, had been conjured by Antonio.

Fantastic.

Tom sighed, walking over and taking a seat on the edge of the young man's bed.

"You'd best come out of this soon, Alfred," he advised, "I don't know what the Captain'll do without you there to tell 'im to calm down. Probably go flyin' off the handle..." he joked--poorly. It only served to make him feel worse as the dread set in. They still weren't exactly sure what had happened to him to put him in such a sorry state, and as for Pearl...

No. He couldn't think about that.

"Don't you dare die, Alfred," Tom warned as he rose to his feet to start pacing again.

* * *

"I do not like zis," Ludwig grunted as he shifted uncomfortably against the rope binding his wrists. The Captain had decided that this was for the best, though, giving them the order to stand down like that. Still, he couldn't help but wonder if Antonio had made a terrible mistake. His judgment had been compromised the instant that Lovino was taken, even more so after that _thing_ had stolen the ship. He frowned; this was not a good situation at all.

"Neither do I," Kiku answered glumly, "But I am not sure what else we could have done--we must get the ship back in order to do anything," he admitted with a sigh.

"Ja, but--" Ludwig continued as a hard shove from behind cut him off. Gilbert sneered at him as he walked past, crimson eyes narrowed dangerously. Ludwig frowned, shaking his head.

"You know that guy?" Heracles asked, arching an eyebrow.

"He's...it's a long story," Ludwig sighed, "I don't have time to discuss zis now," he added hotly, frowning. Goddamn Gilbert.

"Right, we need to focus on Lovino," Kiku agreed as he looked over at Feli. He had gone silent, staring forlornly at the deck and shaking. It pained Ludwig to see him so distraught, but there was simply nothing he could do to comfort him with his hands tied.

"I heard them talking--they can see light ahead," Kiku added.

"Gut, ve can catch zem qvickly," Ludwig said with a thoughtful frown, "But...even if ve do..."

"What can we do?" another one of the German crewmen--Karl--asked anxiously, "It's not like ve can just tell zat zhing to leave,"

"But we can try and trick it into taking another vessel," Kiku said cryptically. All eyes turned onto him at that point, blinking at him curiously.

"Vhat?" Karl blurted.

Kiku swallowed before speaking, looking around to ensure that they would not be overheard.

"Well, the...entity..." he paused, fishing for the correct term, "It was residing in that stone the Captain had, correct?"

He waited for the others to nod in agreement before continuing.

"So, if we trick it into leaving Pearl's body and going into the stone instead, we can get rid of it and get the ship back," Kiku explained matter-of-factly, a small smile gracing his thin lips.

"Ja, if ve had zhe stone," Ludwig lamented with a sigh, "Zat's still at zhe island--"

He stopped short as a clattering sound caught his attention.

"...what was that?" Heracles asked, looking around.

Ludwig frowned, blue eyes darting around nervously.

His breath froze in his chest as a faint blue-green shimmer caught his eye. Lying on the deck of Kirkland's ship, beneath Feli's trembling, bound hands, was a tiny stone. Glass-like and oblong shaped, it glinted innocently at him.

"Scheisse," he breathed.

"...what?" Kiku asked nervously.

"Feli's got it," Ludwig blurted excitedly. If his hands weren't bound, he could have hugged that little Italian. Maybe. Almost. He scooted slowly toward him, turning around so he could grasp the tiny stone in his bound hand behind his back.

"Got what?" Heracles asked, arching an eyebrow again as he followed Ludwig's movements. He gasped as he saw what Ludwig was heading for, eyes widening, "W-why does he have that?!"

"Because he knew ve vould need it," Ludwig praised as he felt the cool stone slip into his palm. He clasped his fingers around it with a triumphant grin, "Nice vork, Feli," he said as he turned to face him. Feli didn't respond, staring down at the deck blankly. Ludwig frowned worriedly as he turned back toward the others.

"Vell, ve have zhe stone," he sighed, "Now--?"

He was abruptly cut off as something shot past him and grasped onto Karl's arm. A thick, black tendril of _something_ with a reptilian head had attached itself to Karl, its rows of teeth glinting as they sunk into his flesh. The man screamed, eyes wide in horror as he was suddenly hoisted to his feet and dragged along the deck.

"HELP HELLLP-!" he cried as he was taken out of the glow of the lantern, held aloft by something huge and slimy before being pulled into the dark sea.

* * *

Arthur's jaw fell open as one of Antonio's men was suddenly dragged across the deck and disappeared over the rail.

"Oh, not again," he muttered as he dug his knuckles into his eyes in an attempt to clear them. Another damned illusion, another waking fever dream, only this time people were being flung overboard. Well, it was better than having insects skirting across people's faces, right?

"KIRKLAND!" Antonio cried with a volume that made Arthur jump, "¿QUÉ PASÓ?"

"I--you saw that too?" Arthur stammered as a loud splash and hiss of rushing water met his ears, flooding the deck below as--

He cried out in horror as what he could only describe as a dragon emerged from the sea, only its massive head and neck visible as its black scales glinted wickedly in the dim lantern light. The creature swung its enormous head from side to side with a horrible growl, yellow eyes finding the terrified huddle of Antonio's men and lunging forward with alarming speed. A second head emerged, followed by another, and another--

"NO!" Arthur cried as the creature snapped its jaws around one man's torso and dragged him back into the sea, "GET BELOW DECK!" he bellowed as he headed for the steps and drew his sword. A scream met his ears, abruptly cut off with a sickening gargling sound as yet another sailor was claimed.

Antonio shoved him out of the way and sprinted out onto the main deck, shouting at his crewmen in Spanish which Arthur had no doubt was advising them to get below deck. He looked up as a great splash erupted from the sea, green eyes meeting sickly yellow ones. The creature's split pupils locked onto him as it lunged forward with a guttural howl.

Arthur slammed into the deck and rolled, just missing being devoured. He could smell the thing's putrid breath, hear the slick hiss of its scales brushing against the planks as it shot past him.

"CAPTAIN!" someone cried. Arthur clumsily picked himself up as the beast roared and reared back, hell-bent on capturing its scarlet-clad prey.

"ARTHUR, THIS WAY!" the voice called again. Arthur looked up--Mat was standing in the doorway of the infirmary, pushing the men inside and gesturing for him to join them.

Arthur dashed toward the infirmary, the beast growling at him as it gave chase. He cried out as he felt something graze the hem of his coat as he ran and finally, blessedly, tore through the open doorway and ran straight into Antonio. They tumbled onto the floor clumsily as Mat, Sam, and one of Antonio's men (using his shoulder) struggled to keep the door closed. The creature rammed the door several times, howling savagely before moving to terrorize other parts of the ship.

"Are you all right?!" Mat blurted worriedly as Arthur clumsily got to his feet. He gulped for air, grasping onto the wall for support.

"What--the hell--was that?" he asked between gasps as he turned and glared at Antonio. The Spaniard had only managed to get into a sitting position so far with his arms bound.

"What the hell--did you DO?" he demanded as Antonio threw him an incredulous look.

"How the hell should I know? I didn't DO anything!" Antonio cried, "YOU nearly got my men killed, you limey bastard!" he shouted as he scooted over to the wall and began shimmying up it to a standing position, "You left them out there to DIE!" he accused.

"What WAS that thing?!" Arthur bellowed as he approached, grabbing Antonio's collar and slamming him roughly into the wall.

"Stop!" shouted one of Antonio's men, the short Asian chap with obsidian black hair who had helped keep the door shut earlier. Arthur glared at him briefly before releasing Antonio's shirt.

"I have no idea what that thing was," Antonio snapped as he rolled his shoulders indignantly, "But my men were out in the open with their hands tied--you nearly got them all killed!"

"And how the fuck was I supposed to know that a bloody sea monster would come looking for a meal?" Arthur responded coolly, "You should have mentioned it earlier, Antonio, then perhaps I could have _made accommodations_ ," he hissed angrily.

"All right, can we just figure out what the hell to do? I mean, what the fuck _was_ that?" Sam asked flatly, eyeing the door suspiciously as Mat threw the lock. Arthur almost felt like laughing--surely a lock would keep the bloodthirsty sea dragon at bay, right?

"Some kind of...I don't even know," Mat trailed off as he ran a shaky hand through his bangs. He jumped as a blood-curdling scream erupted from out on the deck.

"They're still out there!" Sam exclaimed as he rushed forward to open the door. Mat stopped him, throwing his hands against the boatswain's chest to keep him at bay.

"Don't!" Mat cried as Tom lunged forward, his arm in a sling, to grasp onto Sam's arm.

"He's right, Sam!" Tom shouted, "If you go out there you're gonna get killed!"

"But I might be able to save 'em--!" Sam protested as a soggy thump and a horrific crunching noise sounded from outside of the door. Sam's eyes widened in horror as he stepped backward, thudding against the wall as Tom tightly grasped onto his arm.

"Captain," Mat asked in a small voice, even for him, "What do we do now?"

Arthur inhaled slowly as he backed into the wall and leaned against it tiredly. That was a great question, actually. Going back outside was out of the question, not with that thing lurking around in the dark.

"We need to hunker down until morning," Arthur decided as he threw a stern look around the room. It was fairly packed for such a small space--Tom, Mat, Sam, that Asian sailor, Antonio, Caleb, and himself were all clustered in what little space the place afforded. He prayed the others made it below deck in time.

"What good will that do?" Tom asked quietly, "Won't it be able to see us better when it's light out?"

"There's a chance it only hunts at night," Arthur offered, trying to drum up anything he'd gleaned from biology lessons when he was a boy. It wasn't working. Besides, he'd hated biology.

"What?" Antonio blurted as he shook his head, "Are you fucking crazy? We don't know that,"

"Well have you got a better idea?" Arthur snapped irritably, "Maybe it'll leave once it realizes we aren't coming out of hiding, and..." Arthur stopped himself--he had been on the brink of saying something about it already being full, but now was certainly not the time.

The other men looked at one another in the awkward silence. For all intents and purposes, they were trapped, reduced to cowering below deck until...what, exactly?

"B-but what about the others?" Caleb asked quietly. Arthur looked down at the floor sadly as his stomach churned. As Alfred had so eloquently put it once, his men were like his brothers. But, he considered as he looked back up at Caleb with the most courageous face he could muster, the four fearful men in front of him were his brothers as well. He couldn't endanger them by throwing open that door and letting them get killed.

"I'm sure George and Jon and the others managed to get everyone below deck," he said determinedly. Caleb looked skeptical, but slowly nodded.

"Can you at least untie us?" Antonio snapped, "So if we get attacked again we aren't completely fucked?"

"No," Sam responded curtly, "Now shut up,"

Arthur sighed, shaking his head as he approached the cot on the far end of the room. His Alfred looked in bad shape, his slackened face tinged a sickly gray. He sat down on the bed beside him, running his hand through his soft bangs. Alfred didn't even stir, appearing to be merely asleep.

"Hey there," he whispered as he stroked Alfred's hair, noting with a jolt how cold his forehead was. He reached over and tugged the blankets beneath his chin, tucking him in tightly. Were it not for the others in the room, he would have spoken his next thought aloud:

_"Please don't die on me,"_

* * *

Notes:

Que paso - what happened


	22. Chapter 22

"The humans are testing us," Pearl stated blandly as she stared past Lovino, out to a point beyond the stern. Lovino squinted, trying to make out what she was looking at, but found nothing.

"Testing us?" he repeated dreamily, wanting so much for her to be pleased with him. She had been good to him, whisking him away from the island and away from the awful people he had formerly considered friends (and more). He had simply overreacted earlier, when he had tampered with the sail. She had been right in punishing him.

He shuddered as she reached out and carded her nimble fingers through his hair, leaning into her palm and closing his eyes. He gasped as her other hand grasped onto his shoulder.

"They think they can catch us now that we have slowed down," Pearl continued as Lovino reached up with a trembling hand to cover hers. He smiled as Pearl allowed the gesture. Touching her skin was electrifying, a jolt of something wild sizzling into his quivering fingertips.

"They are unfortunate. Their Alfred has a very... _active_ imagination," she said slyly, "Although he is struggling more than we had anticipated..." she trailed off with a frown.

"What do you mean?" Lovino asked quietly as he looked out into the dark night and noted the faintest glimmer of orange light. Lantern light? Another ship? Kirkland's, perhaps.

She remained silent, and for one terrifying moment Lovino feared he had angered her again. His fears were calmed as she pat his shoulder reassuringly and walked past him toward the railing. She paused, folding her arms over her chest as she stared out at the pinprick of light.

"They should be sufficiently frightened by now," she reasoned as Lovino listened intently, "We will be unable to conjure a strong enough gale to push us forward for a time..." she trailed off with a displeased frown; Lovino whimpered.

"Do not fret," she advised as she turned back toward him, "They will be far too afraid to challenge us," she said with a definitive, regal nod of her head.

"Afraid of...us?" Lovino squeaked.

Pearl simply laughed, a delicate tinkling noise that made Lovino's heart flutter, and turned back to walk past him onto the deck.

* * *

Antonio sighed heavily as he slumped against the wall. This was ridiculous. They were wasting time.

"How far are they?" Kirkland asked suddenly from where he was perched on one of the cots. That other guy--Alfred--from earlier lay upon it, looking rather sickly. Antonio couldn't help but notice the way Kirkland was fussing over him, obviously distraught. Perhaps he was more than just his first mate or something of the like...?

He frowned; this was no time to reflect on such things.

"Not much farther than earlier, I don't think," Antonio reasoned with a frown, "But...I don't feel it as strongly as before," he added pointedly as Kirkland scowled at him.

"Don't give me that," he snapped.

"Well I don't know what you're expecting, _burro_ , but that's how it is," Antonio hissed, "My connection is weakening,"

"But...we are within range where we can see them when the sun rises," Kiku reasoned with a hint of hope to his tone.

"Yeah, assuming we can get outside to see 'em," a man with his arm in a sling growled, "Do you reckon it's...gone?"

"I haven't heard anything in a while," Antonio offered.

Awkward silence filled the small space until Kirkland sighed.

"All right, I'll go look," he said glumly as he got to his feet and strode up to the door.

"What are you, crazy?!" one of his men demanded, a bespectacled man with wild red-blonde hair.

"You got a better idea, Mat?" Kirkland demanded, "We're losing time,"

"I will accompany you," Kiku offered as Antonio nudged him sharply with his knee. The Japanese sailor glared at him defiantly as he got to his feet.

"With your hands tied?" Antonio said uncertainly. The last thing he wanted was for another one of his men to get eaten alive. He shuddered at the thought, frowning.

 _Dios_ , what had he done?

"Captain, I can assure you that I--" Kiku protested.

"It's fine. You can go outside now," a small voice said from directly behind Kirkland.

"FUCK!" one of them shouted as the room collectively jumped and whirled to look over at Alfred's cot.

A young girl with golden hair and piercing blue eyes was seated upon it, kicking her legs playfully as she surveyed them with a small smirk. Her hair was tied back into an elegant braid that cascaded down her back, save for a stubborn cowlick that refused to be matted down; her little pink dress ruffled loudly as she moved.

"W-what? Who...?" one of the men spluttered as he looked over at Kirkland, who looked as shocked as any of them. The Brit's eyes were wide, stunned into confused silence. Antonio blinked a few times, looking from the girl to Kirkland several times nervously. First a woman, now a kid? But, based on the crew's astonished expressions, this child clearly wasn't part of the ship's manifest. Something was odd about her appearance, about the way the bed didn't seem to be caving to her weight. It was almost as if she was hovering above it, somehow.

"I said it's gone," she repeated matter-of-factly as she turned toward the man who had spoken, who flinched, "You can go outside now. That monster won't get you anymore,"

"...who _are_ you?" the man with glasses asked softly as he slowly took a tentative step forward. The little girl smiled, looking directly up at Kirkland.

* * *

Arthur gulped as a pair of bright blue eyes locked onto him. She giggled, tilting her head.

"I'm here to help," she answered cryptically as she smiled. A dazzling, beautiful smile that made her blue eyes sparkle. Arthur had seen that smile, countless times before. His breath caught in his chest as his mouth fell open.

"Yes, but _who are you_?" Sam reiterated nervously.

"Ange," Arthur breathed, hardly believing what he was saying.

The girl looked surprised for a moment, blue eyes widening as she stood and slowly nodded.

"Oh, Alfie will be so happy to know that you recognized me," she said quietly as she turned back toward Alfred, "He...can't hear you right now, but he'll know later,"

"All right, WHAT is happening?" Tom demanded as his voice quivered. Ange looked over at him in surprise, as if she had forgotten the other men were there. She folded her little hands over her abdomen and sighed heavily, looking at Arthur again.

"Alfie is fighting with something...strange," she began with a worried frown, "He's doing what he can, but the entity within him is sapping his strength,"

"Arthur, WHO is this?" Mat snapped angrily. Arthur opened his mouth to explain (though he really wasn't sure of what to say) when Ange spoke for him.

"I'm a memory," she said suddenly, "Or, something akin to one...sort of,"

"What little kid uses the words 'entity' and 'akin?'" Mat demanded, narrowing his eyes at her suspiciously. To his surprise, she giggled. Mat looked less than pleased, folding his arms over his chest and frowning.

"I don't see how this is funny," Mat warned.

"She's Alfred's twin sister, Mat," Arthur blurted.

He gulped as six pairs of eyes locked onto him in disbelief. Tom had gone rather pale, leaning against the wall heavily as he blinked at Arthur in silence. Mat looked more annoyed than anything, but the remaining men in the room looked stunned, Antonio included.

"His...twin sister?" Caleb squeaked as Arthur nodded once, "But how--?"

"I'm what he remembers of his sister. I'm not actually her," Ange corrected with a smile, "Her spirit moved on a long time ago, but Alfie will always have _me_ ,"

Arthur shuddered at the possessive tone she had used, but let it slide in favor of getting a handle on the situation.

"But how are you here?" the Asian man inquired, dark eyes blinking in fascination.

Ange shrugged as she giggled, tossing her braid onto her shoulder and toying with the frayed end.

"I'm not supposed to be," she whispered as if telling a secret, "I'm kind of an accidental side effect, so to speak. The entity was trying to extract things from his memory to scare you with, and I kinda...snuck out,"

"Whoa, whoa...what?" Sam asked worriedly.

"What do you mean 'extract things?'" Arthur demanded, suddenly feeling nauseous. This bloody creature was still poking around in Alfred's mind? And using it for...what, exactly?

Ange frowned sadly as she turned toward her brother again, reaching out and touching his forehead. Arthur noted with an unpleasant jolt that his hair didn't move when she touched it.

"It isn't directly connected to Alfie, just like with him," she said as she vaguely gestured toward Antonio, who physically flinched at being addressed. He gaped at her, green eyes wide beneath furrowed brows.

"H-how did you know that?" he asked in disbelief. Ange turned toward him with a sad smile.

"I can tell," she said quietly, "But its hold over you is waning. Alfie still has farther to go until it leaves him completely, and while it's here, it's going to try and hurt you," she added cryptically in a way that made Arthur's stomach heave.

"So...you're saying..." Caleb said slowly, processing, "...that thing is...using Alfred's mind...?" he trailed off as he threw his hands into the air, clearly flabbergasted.

"Yes, it's using his memories to conjure up obstacles to keep you from reaching it," Ange explained hurriedly as she walked up to Arthur and looked up into his face, "We need to get back on its trail, Arthur,"

"Wait, his _memories_?" Tom asked with a frown, "Since when has Alfred seen a fuckin--erm, sorry, a...a sea dragon or whatever?" he corrected hurriedly as Ange stubbornly crossed her arms over her chest and turned toward him.

"He doesn't have to _see_ it," she elaborated with a raised eyebrow. Arthur couldn't get over how many of Alfred's mannerisms this child had in that instant--the likeness was extraordinary. It made his heart ache.

"It just needs to be in his mind," she continued as she looked up at Arthur accusingly, "And where would he have gotten the image of a six-headed sea monster into his head, hm?" she demanded.

Arthur blinked spastically at her as he looked to Mat for help. His first mate raised an eyebrow at him, but remained silent. What was she talking about? Was it something he had done? Something he had said--?

"Oh God," he blurted as Ange smiled at him knowingly, "The book,"

"What?" Mat asked.

"He's...he's been reading _The Odyssey_ ," he breathed as he leaned heavily against the wall.

"The what now?" Sam asked, sounding rather irritated.

"I'm familiar with that one," Antonio said suddenly with a nod, "It tells of a dangerous journey of a man to get back to his homeland,"

"With fucking--agh, sorry--sea monsters?" Sam blurted as he rubbed his temples tiredly.

"Language," Ange whispered; Sam looked about ready to scream in frustration, his face turning a mottled red as Tom pat his arm awkwardly.

"It's set in ancient Greece," Arthur said hollowly, suddenly filled with guilt. But what was he supposed to do, prevent Alfred from reading because of his wild imagination? He frowned, shaking his aching head. None of this made any sense.

"Odysseus encounters many obstacles during his journey," Antonio continued for him, nodding at Arthur respectfully as he spoke, "a sea monster with many heads being one of them,"

"Oh, great," Caleb huffed as he threw his hands into the air again and sank onto the floor.

"What else did he encounter, Captain?" the Asian sailor asked quietly. Antonio hesitated, frowning thoughtfully.

"A giant whirlpool, a creature with one eye that tries to eat him, storms, a witch..." Arthur trailed off as the tension in the room skyrocketed, "A-anyway, it's several things," he said hurriedly, not wanting to make the mounting sense of fear any worse.

"Well that's just great," Mat snapped, "So now what? We just sit here and wait for...?" he trailed off as a soft, distant sound caught their ears. Ethereal, floating across the air like waves, a wordless song ebbing and flowing into--

"No," Arthur breathed as the panic set in. He snapped into action, running over to Mat's medical supplies and haphazardly throwing them around.

"Arthur, what--?!" Mat demanded angrily as he stormed toward him.

"Gauze," he managed as the sound of the haunting tune only became louder, "Something to plug our ears, Mat--quickly!"

His first mate blinked at him, frowning.

"I SAID QUICKLY!" Arthur shouted at the top of his lungs. Mat jumped, rushing over and retrieving a roll of gauze. Arthur grabbed it and proceeded to rip it into pieces as his very confused first mate looked on.

"Plug your ears!" he ordered to the room of decidedly shaken men. He frowned; he had to get to the ones closest to the door first, or it was all over. He bounded across the room and roughly shoved two bits of gauze into Caleb's ears.

"OW!" he cried, "What the FUCK?"

"Language," Ange whispered, barely audible.

"Arthur, what's happening?!" Mat demanded as Arthur jammed gauze into Tom's ears for good measure. The sailor grunted, but didn't remove the cotton. He had to move quickly.

"Las sirenas," Antonio blurted, horror flashing across his wide eyes.

"Here," Arthur ordered as he shoved a chunk of gauze into Tom's hands, "Fill everyone's ears with that--NOW," he ordered as he turned toward the others-

He froze as he heard the sound of the lock being opened.

"NO!" he cried as Sam threw the door open and quickly stumbled out onto the deck, letting the notes of a beautifully haunting tune inside. The room was instantly flooded with it, rising and falling in notes that could not have possibly been made by human beings. Arthur slammed his fingers into his ears in a vain attempt to keep the sound out, but it was too late.

He staggered after Sam, feet moving sluggishly of their own accord as he felt his mind growing hazy.

He had been too late.

* * *

"Holy shit," Tom breathed as Sam abruptly left the cabin. The Captain took off after him, a disturbing look on both of their faces as they left. Something like euphoria, but...unnatural. He glared down at the gauze in his hands, frowning. That song. That damned song was causing everyone to go completely insane, and Sam--

"OH NO YOU DON'T," he snapped, grabbing Mat by the arm as he made an attempt to run out the door. The first mate howled angrily at him, probably cursing up a storm, as Tom struggled to hold him down. He noted vaguely how difficult this was going to be with one functional arm.

Caleb lunged forward, slamming down onto Mat and holding him firmly in place. Tom hurriedly stuffed gauze into his ears, looking up in horror as the Spic and one of his men staggered toward the door, hindered by their bonds.

He stole a look at Caleb, who nodded.

"Can't believe I'm helping you assholes," Tom grumbled as he handed Caleb some gauze and proceeded to plug up Antonio's ears. Caleb took care of the other sailor, who blinked at them as if just realizing they were there. Tom jumped up, gesturing for Caleb to follow him outside. They had to reach the others in time, they had to reach Sam--

He grunted as the Spic stomped on his foot, glaring at him venomously. The Spaniard was clearly shouting something at him, but he couldn't hear it. Finally, the man turned around and shook his bound hands; he wanted his ropes removed.

Tom hesitated. This was probably a bad idea, but two men with bound hands weren't going to be of any use in distributing gauze to the other sailors. His stomach plummeted--he had to reach Sam in time.

"Don't make me regret this," he snarled as he gestured for Caleb to untie them; he couldn't do it with one hand. To his surprise, Mat sprung into action instead, using a knife to quickly sever their ropes. The Spic nodded at them, grabbing a fistful of gauze from Tom as he dashed out onto the deck. Tom quickly followed, Mat and Caleb close behind.

"Oh my God," he blurted, though he couldn't hear the sound of his own voice through the gauze. Men of both crews were stumbling across the deck as if possessed, heading toward the port side.

"NO!" Tom cried as the silhouette of a man flinging himself over the side of the ship caught his eye. What were they _doing_?!

"SAM!" he shouted as he desperately scanned the dimly lit deck for any sign of him. That hadn't been him that had gone over the side just now. It couldn't have been--he...he was taller than that, right? Right?!

Oh, God.

"SAAAM!" he cried as he dashed madly toward the rail. He slammed into George, who had developed a nasty gash on the side of his head. He reached up and jammed gauze into one ear, then the other, as George protested angrily. He suddenly stopped dead, blinking at Tom in confusion. Tom gestured for him to follow, pointing at his ears and shoving gauze into his hands as well. George seemed to understand his task, bounding across the deck and frantically trying to distribute cotton.

Tom paled, looking up as a man suddenly shot past him and threw his leg up onto the railing. His hands were bound behind his back, hindering his progress. Tom lunged forward and yanked the man back onto the deck; he squirmed and struggled indignantly as Tom struggled to place cotton in his ears. He was a large, rather muscular man--Tom recognized him as one of the two fighting with the Spaniard out at the island earlier.

He yelped as he was thrown onto his back, the man continuing his mad dash for the side of the ship. He grunted, rolling to his feet as a slight figure dashed forward and lunged into him, knocking him onto the deck. The Asian sailor struggled to keep the man subdued, but Tom had other priorities.

He hurriedly scanned the deck, his eyes falling upon a familiar, broad-shouldered silhouette perched on top of the railing. He leaned forward, prepared to jump--

"SAM!" he shouted as he dashed forward and grabbed the man by the arm, his precious clump of gauze falling to the deck. Sam tried to wrench his arm away, losing his footing and slipping one foot off of the railing. Tom tore his arm out of its sling with a strangled cry, grasping Sam's leg and pulling with all of his might. Sam lost his balance, landing on top of him as Tom fell flat on his back. He cringed as he felt his head hit the floor, pain shooting down his spine as he reached up and jammed his fingers into Sam's ears. His arm throbbed angrily at him as he felt his wound reopen, warm blood flowing down his arm and onto his shoulder.

"SAM, STOP!" he cried as the man viciously struggled; Tom threw his legs around the man's waist to keep him pinned down, but it was a struggle. Sam wasn't exactly petite.

"FOCUS, DAMN IT!" Tom bellowed as Sam glared down at him, face contorted into the most vicious snarl he had ever seen on anyone, let alone his usually easy-going partner. Tom winced as something tore in his leg, he was certain of it, but he couldn't let up.

"GODDAMN IT, SAM, WAKE UP!" he shouted.

It was as if Sam was seeing him for the first time, blinking dazedly at him in the dim orange lantern light. Tom saw him mouth his name and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Focus on me, Sam," he coached, forming the words slowly so Sam could follow. Sam nodded, cupping Tom's face in trembling hands.

Tom smiled through the steadily increasing pain in his head and leg, forming words so that Sam could easily read them as he blinked away stars in front of his eyes.

"Focus on me," he coached, "I love you,"

Tom remained conscious just long enough to see Sam mouth "I love you" in return.

* * *

"ARTHUR, STOP!" Mat cried as he slammed into the captain, sending him sprawling onto the deck. He kept thrashing his head, making addition of gauze impossible.

"YOU DUMB SON OF A BITCH!" Mat snapped as Arthur quickly got to his feet and made a mad dash for the port-side rail.

Mat gave chase, running into him and shoving him backwards. It was not an easy task, with Arthur digging his heels into the boards and pummeling him repeatedly with his fists. Thankfully, he lacked the sense to use his sword. Mat swore profusely, finally managing to slam Arthur into the mast and roughly bash his head against it. Arthur was stunned for a moment, reeling.

"Sorry," Mat breathed as he retrieved a length of rope at the base of the mast and hurriedly lashed Arthur to it, running around him in circles until the captain was secured. Arthur was struggling against his bonds, screaming at the top of his lungs, but Mat heard none of it through the gauze as he secured the rope on one of the cleats on the deck.

"YOU'LL THANK ME LATER!" Mat bellowed angrily as he looked up--

Just in time to see Jon throwing himself over the side of the Tern.

"NO!" Mat cried as he blindly ran over to the rail and peered over it into the dark sea. Nothing was visible.

Mat cursed under his breath, clutching the cotton in his fists and forcing himself to return to the task at hand. A man of slight build was staggering toward the railing, a peculiar strand of spiral-shaped hair jutting out from his head. He swayed, giving Mat the opportunity to jam cotton into both of his ears. The man turned quickly toward him, obviously disoriented. Mat left him to his confusion--he had more of his crewmen to find.

He looked up in horror as he caught two familiar silhouettes--one had just gone overboard, and the other was attempting to follow.

Mat rushed forward, grabbing Gil by the ankles and yanking him back onto the deck. Mat latched onto his waist, trying to pull him away. Gil struggled, dragging Mat with him as he tightly gripped the railing. Mat cried out in pain as Gil reared back and head butted him, sending him staggering backwards.

"GIL, STOP!" he cried as his nose rained blood. He lunged forward, clutching the hem of Gil's shirt--

Gil froze, turning around and looking down at Mat in confusion.

Mat blinked--was it over?

Gil was saying something to him, shaking Mat's shoulders fretfully. Mat hesitated, then reluctantly popped one of the cotton wads out of his ears.

Silence, save for the sounds of the men asking what the hell was going on.

Mat sighed in relief as he felt light-headed, tipping his head back to stop the flow from his nostrils.

It had stopped.

* * *

Lovino jumped as Pearl suddenly cried out in rage, pummeling the railing with her delicate fists.

"W-what's wrong?" he asked worriedly. She turned back toward him, eyes ablaze with a strange light as she scowled angrily.

"The human is resisting," she growled through grit teeth, "But not for much longer," she added with a wicked grin.

Lovino gulped and backed away, retreating into what was once Antonio's cabin.

* * *

Alfred reluctantly pried one eye open, though it was difficult. He felt like he had been asleep for ages. But...where was he?

He opened the other eye and blinked, trying to get a his bearings. Nothing was visible, though--just inky blackness surrounded him on all sides. He tried calling out, but no sound came. He tried sitting up, but his body felt like it was made of lead.

Oh God--he was _paralyzed_.

He managed a muffled yelp as panic seized him, all senses on alert as he struggled to move. It was as if something invisible was holding him down--

He jumped as someone abruptly materialized out of the dark, a tall silhouette wearing a decorated hat.

"Alfred?" the figure asked worriedly as it approached.

"Arthur?" Alfred tried to say, but only a whimper managed to pass his dry, chapped lips. God, how long had he been asleep? Come to think of it, when had he fallen asleep in the first place? He forgot what he was doing before--

He jumped as Arthur's lips suddenly closed over his, halting his frantic thoughts. Arthur's fingers carded through his hair and slid down his face, onto his shoulders and down his sides. Alfred grunted irritably and tried to squirm out of the way, but just _couldn't_. A strange numbness took hold, filling him with panic.

"What is wrong, Love?" Arthur purred as he finally broke the kiss so Alfred could come up for air.

"Can't move," Alfred gasped, "I c-can't move,"

"Sure you can," Arthur reassured him as he drew him into his arms. Alfred felt himself being lifted, but couldn't manage to move his arms or legs. Why did Arthur sound so strange?

"I still can't," Alfred nearly sobbed into Arthur's chest.

"Hush, Alfred, it is all right," Arthur said softly as he rubbed his back. Alfred felt his muscles relaxing, going limp and weak, "Just be calm,"

"B-but--"

"I said hush," Arthur cut him off, leaning down and capturing Alfred's lips once again.

Alfred could barely feel the captain's arms around him as his eyes closed of their own accord, his limp body pressed lifelessly into Arthur's as everything dissolved into the crushing blackness.

* * *

Notes:

Translations for Antonio:

Dios - God

Burro - "donkey" or "jackass"

Las Sirenas - the Sirens

I am perpetually on a Greek mythology kick. As Antonio explained, _The Odyssey_ is a story about the journey Odysseus had to go on in order to return home after the Trojan War. One of many things he encounters is having to pass by the island of the Sirens, creatures with beautiful voices that sang to lure sailors toward them and, ultimately, to their deaths (the Sirens feast upon them). In _The Odyssey_ , Odysseus is warned about the Sirens and plugs the ears of his men with beeswax so they don't hear the song and try to jump overboard. As for himself, he ordered his men to tie him to the mast so he could hear their song without doing something crazy.


	23. Chapter 23

Arthur groaned miserably as he picked his heavy head up off of his chest. He was out on the deck. But wasn't he just in the infirmary...?

He looked down as he found himself unable to move. Ropes were lashed across his chest, pinning him to what he assumed must be one of the masts. He was tied to the mast of his own ship.

"Just like Odysseus," he mused with a chuckle, shaking his head as it turned into a full-blown laugh. This was insane. He was tied to the mast to keep from being devoured by the fucking Sirens. They were real. Everything was real.

It was too much.

* * *

Tom cracked one eye open and immediately wished he hadn't as he slammed it shut again. His head was throbbing, not to mention the pain in his arm or in his leg and--

Was...someone talking? Everything was garbled, drowned out by a dull ringing.

And he was moving, somehow--carried? Yeah, that had to have been it; warmth radiated through his achy body, his head resting against something warm and familiar, somehow, and--

"--can help 'im!"

He groaned as he was abruptly jostled, comfortable warmth gone and then swiftly replaced.

"...need yer help with the...I'll get 'im...Mat and..."

"But--!"

"Go! Now!"

Tom felt himself being hurried somewhere, the pair of arms bearing him tightening as whoever it was ran across the deck with him. He vaguely heard footfalls on the planks as the man sprinted.

"Mat!" someone cried. Tom frowned; who was that? The other voice had sounded like Sam, but not this one. He cautiously cracked his eye open again, slowly craning his throbbing head upward.

He blinked.

"Mat, he's--!" none other than Smitty cried. If Tom didn't know better, he'd say he was on the verge of hysterical, usual smarmy grin gone from his face as he looked to who Tom assumed was the first mate anxiously. The side of his face was bloody, but Tom couldn't deduce exactly where the injury was.

"Set him down," another voice--Mat's, maybe--ordered. Tom closed his eyes again with a soft sigh as he felt his body being placed gingerly onto the deck; this was all simply too strange to bother staying awake for.

* * *

"The hell's the matter with you, eh?" a voice demanded from Arthur's left. He looked up, pausing from his fit of (more than likely) hysterical laughter. Antonio glared at him with one arched eyebrow, frowning.

"What?" Arthur blurted, "How the hell did you get untied?"

"How the hell did you get tied up?" Antonio asked coolly as he shook his head and began untying the rope from the cleat on the deck. Arthur remained silent, trying to remember. The last thing he recalled was being in the infirmary and then hearing that horrible song. He had been talking with...

"Oh shit," he hissed as Antonio tugged on the ropes to free him. Arthur clambered off of the mast, scanning the deck for signs of life. A ragged band of frightened sailors met his gaze, his and Antonio's men alike, most likely--it was difficult to discern in the dim light, but if the tense silence was any indication, they were petrified.

"The Sirens," he said suddenly as Antonio nodded.

"For some reason, they stopped," the Spaniard sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose, "But I'm not sure for how long,"

"Gauze," Arthur blurted.

"Everyone is getting some," Antonio reassured him, "The...ones that are left, anyhow," he trailed off sadly, shaking his head.

"This isn't over, you know," a small voice quipped to his right.

Antonio blurted something in disjointed Spanish as they spun, dazed eyes falling upon the slight figure of Alfred's sister. Her little arms were folded across her chest as she stared up at him with a knowing frown; Alfred had given him that same look many, many times. She looked different outside--pearly light, almost, soft like moonglow, surrounded her and pierced the darkness on the deck of the ship. Her little pink dress ruffled as she placed her hands onto her hips instead.

"Well? You can't just stand around!" she declared angrily, "Alfie's doing what he can, but you need to do _your_ part as well,"

Arthur's heart leapt into his mouth.

"All right, w-what do you propose we do?" a voice asked unsteadily from behind Antonio. To say that Caleb looked distraught was an understatement. His eyes were wide, mouth pressed into a thin line as he visibly shook.

"Caleb," Arthur said as he cautiously put a hand on his shoulder; Caleb jumped as if shot.

"Caleb, you need to calm down," Arthur instructed, though he felt himself teetering on the edge of madness. He had to hold it together, and he had to try and hold his crew together if possible.

_The ones that are left, anyhow._

Arthur fought the urge to shudder as the Irishman looked over at him, drew a deep, haggard breath, and slowly nodded. He nodded back, looking to Antonio. The Spaniard looked grave, a hollowness to his eyes as he met Arthur's gaze.

"Antonio, bring your men downstairs. We need to have a meeting in the galley," Arthur ordered, though his frantic mind screamed at him to go see to Alfred. Still, he couldn't risk letting the gents stand around outside when God knew what else was coming for them from out of the dark.

"Alfie's fine for now, don't worry," Ange reassured him. The shudder Arthur had been holding back came out as he stared at her in shock. She simply smiled at him; it would have been sweet were it not for the situation.

"What about...?" Antonio trailed off uncertainly, gesturing to Ange.

"She's coming too," Arthur decided.

"No," she insisted, shaking her head. Her braid swayed delicately behind her, glinting and shimmering in the strange otherworldly light that surrounded her.

"But--" Arthur protested.

"I want to be with Alfie," she explained, "You talk to the others and come up with a plan. Then come see me,"

Arthur hesitated, frowning. He didn't have time to argue with her as she abruptly disappeared. He joined Antonio and Caleb in whirling around, but she was nowhere in sight. It was as if she had simply winked out of existence.

"...Captain?" Caleb squeaked, his shaking starting up anew.

"Downstairs," Arthur responded as he turned to rally his crew.

The disheveled band of sailors crept below deck as Arthur and Sam stood watch. Mat had gone to the infirmary to tend to Tom's injuries and to clean up his own--apparently he had gotten hit pretty hard in the face. Arthur took a mental tally of each man that walked through that he recognized--Gil, Smit, Caleb, George, Pete, that rather quiet Scottish fellow, what's his name--Nate. That was right, Nate. So, that made...

"Oh God," he murmured.

"We're missin' Jon 'n' Ward," Sam whispered shakily.

"I don't see Tim, either," Arthur whispered back. He felt like he was going to be sick. Three men. He had lost three men, all because he was too much of a fool to stay away from that goddamn island, from goddamn Antonio. No treasure was worth this.

He looked over at Antonio, who was clearly doing the same thing Arthur was. He had gone pale, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply at intervals. Every so often, he would uncurl one of his fingers on the table in front of him--each to mark a missing sailor. Arthur gulped as the other captain's quivering fingers totaled seven and Mat entered the room.

"All right," Arthur sighed as Mat nodded at him.

"We...we've lost some good men tonight," Arthur said, throat constricting painfully as he thought of his missing crewmen, "All of us have," he added as he looked over the room. Everyone was silent, looking either at him or down at the tables in front of them hollowly. One of Antonio's men was crying, tears streaming down his face as he whimpered. He couldn't wipe them away, of course, with his hands tied...

Arthur hesitated. No. He couldn't risk it until he knew they wouldn't try anything.

"Captain," Gil said quietly, looking around the room before speaking, "Vhat zhe hell is happening?"

Arthur opened his mouth to speak, only to have Antonio beat him to it.

"The creature on our ship is using our fear against us," he stated, looking up at Arthur, who nodded, "It's trying to keep us from going after it,"

"B-but...that...dragon thing, and..." one of his men squeaked, shaking his head.

"All constructed by the thing that stole the ship," Antonio answered definitively.

"Ward wasn't fast enough," George muttered suddenly, staring blankly down at the table in front of him, "Wasn't fast enough. Had a bum leg, he did. Wasn't fast enough. Thing got 'im. Ate 'im. Bit him in half and came back for t'other. Ward wasn't...wasn't fast enough. Ate 'im. Ate 'im. Wasn't fast enough..."

Arthur looked on sadly as Caleb reached over and grabbed George's shoulders, patting him awkwardly on the back as he threw Arthur a fearful glance.

"But vhat about zat singing?" another of Antonio's men asked, the burly blonde one from earlier. He looked pretty roughed up, sporting a split lip and more than just a few cuts and bruises on his face.

"Scylla and The Sirens," another man stated as if in awe. Arthur's attention snapped onto him, a brown-haired man with wild teal-blue eyes.

"Heracles--" Antonio warned.

"No! That's what it was!" Heracles cried as he stood up, "I KNOW my Greek mythology--I was _raised_ on stories like those! H-how is this thing making that story come to life?!"

Arthur reeled for a moment. The whole point of this meeting was to come up with a plan and to calm the men down, and here this guy deduced the entire situation in one hysterical statement. He frowned, looking at Antonio anxiously.

The Spic appeared just as surprised, blinking at the other man tiredly and rubbing his eyes.

"And can ve PLEASE get untied?!" the burly German man from earlier snapped, struggling indignantly against his bonds.

All eyes fell on Arthur.

"Captain?" Mat asked uncertainly.

"Do it," Arthur conceded. They were sitting ducks with tied hands, especially with whatever that thing had in store for them next. A collective sigh of relief filled the room as the Spaniard's crewmen were relieved of their ropes, rubbing their wrists and flexing their liberated fingers.

"All right--what the fuck was he talking about?" Smitty demanded hotly as he slammed his bloody fist into the table, "Greek _what_?"

"The sea creature and the Sirens are from a story from Greek mythology," Arthur explained after a moment's pause, "This thing is able to take those concepts and make them real,"

"...what?" Smit blurted, blinking blearily, "Where the fuck would it know that story from? It's a fucking monster, right?"

Awkward silence ensued. Arthur felt his pulse quicken--what if one of them blew Alfred's cover? Oh, God, he was by himself, defenseless. If the others found out it was connected to him, there was no telling what they might--

"Because I read it before," Antonio stated as he leveled Smitty with an intimidating stare. Smitty looked stunned, joining the rest of the room in turning to look at Antonio.

"What?" Heracles asked softly.

"That thing," Antonio continued as he turned to look at Arthur, "Is connected to me. That's why I could tell where it was. It's...taking bits and pieces from my memory and using it against us,"

Arthur nodded once, very slightly, in gratitude. Antonio nodded a barely perceptible response, and Arthur found himself actually close to liking that Dago son of a bitch. He had covered for Alfred, probably saved his life.

But at what cost?

His eyes caught Mat's, who looked as surprised as he was. Arthur gave him a stern look, and Mat nodded slowly back in understanding. _Not a word_.

"Zis is YOUR fault?" Gil demanded angrily as he got to his feet, "You son of a bitch," he growled.

"Gil, stop," Arthur ordered. The Prussian flashed him a dangerous, crimson glare, but didn't move. Arthur looked up as Pete rose, slamming his fist into the table.

" _You_ did this," he snarled, " _You_ did this to us,"

"You fucking scumbag!" Smitty added as he leapt to his feet, his stool shrieking as it was abruptly shoved backwards.

"I ought to beat zhe scheisse out of you right here und now," Gil threatened.

"Don't you dare," the blonde German sailor snapped, glaring at Gil with icy blue eyes.

"Stand down, Gil," Arthur warned as all eyes turned onto him.

"Vhy?!" Gil demanded angrily, bruised face mottled with rage, "He KILLED Jon and Ward!" he cried.

"Tim too," George added quietly, barely above a whisper.

Silence filled the room, unbroken save for haggard breathing among the group.

"Captain, why?" a soft voice asked.

All eyes fell on a single sailor, with watery amber eyes and a peculiar spiral of hair.

* * *

Antonio's chest constricted painfully at Feli's appearance. He was the very definition of broken, fat tears cascading from his hollow eyes and down his face. He was looking at him, clearly expecting an answer, something that could mend this...

But Antonio was empty.

He had nothing.

"I--" he began as a crack of thunder sizzled loudly above them.

"Oh, fuck," one of Kirkland's men groaned as loud, drenching rain pounded on the roof above them soon after the thunder, like billions of tiny fists trying to barge their way in. He looked up at Kirkland, who was looking up at the ceiling anxiously.

He drew a deep breath.

Time to atone.

"Kirkland, I need a mirror," he blurted. Kirkland looked at him as if he had grown another head.

"What?" he asked.

"Captain, I really do not think this is the best time for--" Kiku squeaked.

" _Now_ , Kirkland," Antonio growled, "I'm going to try and slow that goddamn thing down. I might be able to stop the storm,"

"Y-you're going to Scry," Ludwig deduced with an audible gulp, "But...vhat should ve do...?"

"Help Kirkland's men prepare for a fight," he answered as he swiftly got to his feet. He approached the other captain, who was frowning at him thoughtfully.

"You're in charge of them now," he stated as Kirkland nodded stiffly at him. He turned back to what was left of his crew, to the men he had promised to take under his wing and failed. He couldn't read most of their expressions, and didn't care to. He knew what he had done, and he was more than just ashamed.

"You hear that?" he choked as his throat tightened, "You listen to Kirkland while I'm Scrying. Got it?"

Silence.

"Well?!" he demanded.

He breathed deeply as a series of "aye"s filled the room. Satisfied that he had been heard, he turned back toward Kirkland.

"Sam," Kirkland said to the man next to him, "You and Mat see to it that the gents know their battle stations,"

"Aye," Sam answered, throwing Antonio a confused look before attending to the others.

Kirkland's emerald eyes locked onto Antonio's tired ones as he gestured for Kirkland to lead the way.

* * *

"Oh, you're back!" Ange piped excitedly as a soaking wet Arthur entered the infirmary with Antonio. She was sitting on Alfred's cot, stroking his forehead, "Good. Alfie isn't holding up well,"

"What?" Arthur demanded as he ran past Tom's cot where he lay unconscious and looked down into Alfred's face. He was a shade paler than he recalled earlier, and a reedy whistle now accompanied his every breath. Arthur fought against the panic welling up inside of him, looking to Ange anxiously.

"He...he's _not_ going to die," he said, mostly to himself. Ange chewed her bottom lip, looking back at Alfred and placing her tiny hand on his forehead once again.

"Not if you hurry," she answered quietly. Thunder clapped loudly overhead, followed by a sizzle and flash of white light from outside.

"Kirkland, I _need_ that mirror," Antonio hissed, removing his drenched hat and shaking the water out of it.

"All RIGHT, GOD DAMN IT!" Arthur bellowed as he swooped over to Mat's supplies and fished a small hand mirror out of a drawer, "HERE," he snapped, roughly thrusting the mirror into Antonio's hands, "Now FIX THIS," he demanded, voice quivering with rage as thunder rumbled threateningly.

Antonio hesitated only briefly before seating himself on the floor near the door of the infirmary, placing the mirror on his knees in front of him and staring into it intensely. His eyes quickly drifted, unfocused and glassy as he mumbled to himself.

Arthur fell to his knees beside Alfred's bed, grasping his lover's face in trembling hands as Ange looked on.

"Alfred," he said quietly as he kissed one cheek, then the other, "Alfred, Love, can you hear me? It's Arthur,"

"He can," Ange confirmed for him. Arthur nearly wept with relief.

"Alfred, I need you to keep fighting," he continued as he kissed Alfred's forehead and smoothed his wheat-blonde hair. God, he was so _cold_ , "We're all doing everything we can, and I swear I _will_ save you, no matter what," he continued resolutely, cupping Alfred's face in his hands and placing a gentle kiss onto the corner of his lips, "But you need to stay alive, Love. You have to fight this. I know you can do it--it's only for a little while longer, Love, I promise. Just...hold on. Please, Alfred. Please,"

He kissed Alfred's lips once more for good measure as Ange shifted, her skirts ruffling from beside him. Arthur looked up at her anxiously as she nodded at him.

"He heard you," she said with a soft smile, "He knows you haven't abandoned him,"

"Are you sure?" Arthur asked worriedly.

"Yes," she confirmed, pausing as Antonio's mumbling began growing louder, "He can only do so much. Someone has to steer the ship," she pointed out.

"R-right," Arthur stammered as he headed out into the rain.

He stole one last look into the infirmary, Ange's smiling face glowing at him as he closed the door behind him.

* * *

Alfred groaned, cracking his eyes open and looking up into blackness. His limbs felt too heavy to move, like he was made of stone.

_"Alfred,"_

Huh?

_"Alfred, Love, can you hear me?"_

Yes! Yes, I can! Help me, Arthur I can't see and I can't move and I don't know--

_"Alfred, I need you to keep fighting,"_

What?

Warmth blossomed on his forehead, a tiny pinprick of heat.

 _"I_ will _save you, no matter what,"_

The warmth moved to his lips, soft and comforting.

Arthur, please help--

_"You need to stay alive, Love. You have to fight this,"_

What? Fight? He didn't even know where he was, let alone what he was supposedly fighting.

_"...only for a little while longer, Love, I promise. Just...hold on,"_

I'm _trying_ , Arthur, but I--

_"Please,"_

Alfred gasped as heat filled him, melting his frigid lips and slowly moving through his limp body.

Arthur? Arthur, don't go!

The warmth seeped into him, thawing his frozen throat, chest, into his arms...

He gingerly flexed his numb fingers, hissing as they tingled painfully.

I'll fight, Arthur.

I'll give it all I've got.

* * *

Lovino paced around what used to be Antonio's room worriedly.

Something felt...wrong.

He jumped as lightning crackled overhead, leaning on the dresser for support. This was her doing, he was sure of it, and Kirkland's ship was in for one hell of a storm. Antonio had made a storm like that, once, with the aid of--

No. Don't think about him.

He hated him for abandoning him like this. He hadn't even _tried_ to come after him.

Lightning flashed angrily outside, flooding the room with sharp white light.

This was for the best. She was taking good care of him. She was--

He shivered as thunder roared savagely from outside.

But that...was right, wasn't it? She was trying to help him...?

But why did everything feel so _wrong?_ His head hurt, throbbing angrily at him.

Lovino jumped as the door of Antonio's cabin flew open, slamming against the wall. He rushed forward to close it, only to be halted by a sound over the din of the storm. Jumbled syllables, barely perceptible.

No.

Couldn't be.

"...Antonio?" he whispered into the turbulent night, peering up into the dark sky.

The storm roared overhead as Lovino slammed the door closed.

* * *

Notes: Scylla was the name of the sea monster from _The Odyssey_. Good job, Greece, knowing your stuff. ;)


	24. Chapter 24

Arthur ran into Mat on his way to the ship's wheel as the pair fought against the rain. It wasn't as torrential as THE storm, but it was a close second. The water was frigid, seeping through his coat and slamming loudly onto the deck.

"We'll have to keep the sails up if we're going to catch them. Be ready to fire once we're within range," Arthur instructed over the drumming of the rain, "Are the sails moved?"

"Aye. Northwest, starboard tack, forty-five degrees," Mat answered as Arthur nodded back.

"Who's on deck to move 'em again?" Arthur asked as thunder roared above. Mat turned, placing two fingers in his mouth and emitting a high-pitched whistle. Five men ran forward--Caleb, Gil, Smit, and two of Antonio's blokes. One was the Asian sailor from earlier, the other the soft-spoken chap with the strange hair curl. The former appeared in slightly better shape than in the galley, but not by much.

"Caleb's staying up here to get instructions from you," Mat announced as Caleb nodded.

"All right. Get going," he instructed. Mat nodded gravely, pivoting on his heel and dashing down below deck to give orders to the crewmen. The other sailors, save for Caleb, made for the masts to grab hold of the ropes. Arthur hurried up to the ship's wheel and tightly grasped onto it, Caleb following close behind. His hands trembled as lightning flashed dangerously overhead.

"Come on, hold it together," he hissed through clenched teeth as he stole a look upward. The sky was bloody _green_ , for fuck's sake--

No. Focus.

He spun the wheel, turning the ship toward the northwest. The wind was driving straight at them, so he would need to find another route to the other vessel. If Antonio was correct, he should be slowing the enemy down, giving Arthur time to devise a roundabout route to approach. They'd hit the ship once they were broadside, focusing firepower on the masts. Without sails, Arthur knew quite intimately, the other vessel would be a sitting duck. Once the ship was immobilized, they could board.

After that, though, he had no bloody idea. He knew he had to catch that thing, whatever it was, that was using Pearl as a puppet. It was the only link he had to saving both her and Alfred, and he was not willing to lose either one of them.

"Caleb!" he shouted as the man dashed forward, "Tell 'em to move another forty-five. Then we'll switch 'em around!"

"Aye!" Caleb yelled as he dashed down the steps and out onto the deck.

"All right, then, you unholy bastard," Arthur growled as lightning crackled. They were picking up speed, now--he could see the orange light of the other ship through the rain.

Arthur drew a deep breath, looking up at the green sky and pleading with whatever god would listen that he got to Pearl in time.

* * *

Antonio watched Kirkland's ship bob on the massive waves, vision hazy and unfocused in the glassy plane of the mirror. Kirkland was at the helm, steering them on a course around the prevailing winds. It was a game of adjusting the sails periodically now, to meet his ship close enough to attack. Kirkland would handle the navigation, and Antonio would distract that _creature_ that had stolen his ship (as well as his heart) from him. He snarled, drawing a deep breath and focusing all of his concentration onto the mirror. He prayed that Lovino was all right.

"The sea," he murmured as his vision swept away from Kirkland's ship. He passed through a wall of rainwater, emerging on the other side as light pulsed from below him, " _La Conquistadora_ ," he said quietly. A bolt of longing ran through him as he descended onto the deck of his own ship. He looked around, heart pounding. The sails were stretched tautly in the wind that drove them, though nothing like what he had conjured. Or rather, what that something else had conjured on his behalf. A gash marred the deck, splintered wood reaching up into the glow of the lanterns swinging overhead. Where the fuck had _that_ come from?

Focus.

FOCUS.

"My ship," he reported mechanically as he ran across the planks, footsteps silenced by the howling of the wind around him. The door to his cabin was open--Lovino stood in the doorway, mouth agape as he stared into the blazing, emerald sky.

"Lovino!" he cried, lunging forward to reach out to him--

He cried out wordlessly, clutching at air as the scene cracked and shattered like glass before his eyes. The shards rained past him as he tumbled through the dark, delicate tinkling sounds in the echoing, encompassing silence.

* * *

"FUCK!" Arthur declared as the wind changed direction AGAIN. Whatever this thing was, it knew a thing or two about sailing.

"Captain?!" Caleb shouted.

"HARD STARBOARD," Arthur bellowed angrily, cursing as he swung the ship's wheel as far as it would go toward the port side. Just let that son of a bitch try to outmaneuver him. Just let the damn thing _try_.

The ship groaned, shuddering beneath his feet as the sails and rudder fought with one another for dominance, bringing them to a screeching halt and lurching the Tern forward as Caleb clumsily stumbled over to him.

"Full sail ahead!" Arthur commanded, sending Caleb scurrying over the deck as he relayed the orders to his companions. He let out a bark of a laugh as the ship lunged forward, propelled the winds as it rapidly approached the enemy vessel. They'd be broadside soon, he figured as he turned the rudder toward the port side. The Tern swung elegantly as thunder roared from overhead.

Arthur swore as a bolt of lightning reached down and hit the deck, sending one of Antonio's sailors flying to the ground. He scrambled, picking himself up as Caleb and the Asian sailor ran to his aid.

"Fuck off, you bloody MONSTER," Arthur growled as he made out the silhouette of the enemy ship at last, sails dark and looming above the macabre glow of the lanterns.

"C'mon, Mat, hit 'im already!" he muttered impatiently as he brought the Tern into firing range.

* * *

Antonio flung his arms out, grasping at air as he fell. He was surrounded on all sides by an impenetrable darkness, a perpetual void that was rapidly consuming him.

Lovino. Think of Lovino.

"Damn it," he growled, half-sobbing as he clutched his hands to his head. He had to concentrate. That thing was nearby, closer than before, and he needed to distract it somehow if he stood any chance of--

"Antonio?" someone asked.

Antonio jumped, looking up as his feet suddenly made contact with a hard surface. He stumbled for a moment, looking around. Where was he? A dim ring of amber light surrounded him, a tight circle which pooled onto the floor. He squinted at the trim silhouette approaching, soft footsteps getting slowly louder as he approached.

"Who's there?!" Antonio demanded, brandishing his sword with a metallic clang.

"Eh? The hell's the matter with you?" the stranger blurted as he stepped into the dim light.

"...Lovino?" Antonio breathed, moving to sheathe his weapon and stopping himself.

No. Something was wrong.

"Of course, who else?" Lovino laughed as he walked toward him and placed slim fingers onto his arm. Antonio shuddered; his touch was like ice.

"What are you doing? We need to go," he continued as he tugged on Antonio's sleeve, "The others are all waiting for us,"

"...others?" Antonio blurted, suspicious. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was forgetting something important, that there was something he should have been doing. What _had_ he been doing?

Lovino laughed, that raucous guffaw that made Antonio's heart sing, as he looked over him and shook his head.

"You been drinkin' again or something?" he demanded with a sly grin, "C'mon, let's get outta here," he added, craning up so he was beside Antonio's ear, "We have _plans_...remember?"

Antonio gulped as an excited jolt stirred within him, quite inappropriately. Of course, the Italian noticed.

"Try to save it until we get back, Caro," Lovino whispered, cupping his chin and drawing him in for a kiss. It was as if he had locked lips with a corpse, the chilliness seeping into him and filling his lungs--

Antonio jumped as he pulled away, coughing, and blinked down at him in confusion. What was _that_?

Lovino glared at him, frowning and taking a step backward.

"What's the problem, _Captain_?" he demanded as he crossed his arms.

Antonio hesitated; he had no idea, but something was amiss. What had he been doing just now? It was something important, surely--

"Antonio, you don't look well at all," Lovino stated, tilting his head observantly, "Let's get you to bed--"

"What's my favorite color?" Antonio blurted suddenly. He was nervous now. Something was horribly wrong, his stomach churning unpleasantly.

His suspicions were confirmed as Lovino's beautiful hazel eyes narrowed into slits.

"What?" he snapped.

"You heard me," Antonio pressed, clutching his sword a little more tightly, "What is it?"

"Green, of course," Lovino spat, "What the hell is this about, eh?"

"I just..." Antonio trailed off as a dull pain throbbed in his forehead, right above his eyes. What...?

_Dios_.

Antonio gasped, reality slamming into him like a tidal wave.

The ship.

The storm.

That _creature_.

"Lovino" frowned, chuckling lowly as he began pacing in a slow circle around him. Antonio followed his every move, sword in front of him menacingly.

"Ah, so you are learning," he said quietly, shaking his head, "A little late, but..." he paused, looking up at the nonexistent ceiling, "It will do you no good now. Surrender,"

"Not a chance," Antonio growled, "And my favorite color's RED, BASTARDO!" he cried as he lunged forward and swung. The sound of fabric being torn filled the silence as Lovino dodged, wobbling a little as he glared at him through a curtain of dark bangs.

"It's over. There is nothing more you can do," he insisted, "Just give up--"

"STOP LOOKING LIKE HIM," Antonio snapped, knuckles white on the hilt of his sword, "Show me who you really are, you fucking coward!"

"Lovino" paused, looking at him at eyes of no longer hazel, but blazing golden yellow. There was an animalistic ferocity to them that made Antonio's stomach lurch, a malice so profound that it seemed to swallow the air around it.

_"Like a wolf's eyes,"_ he thought to himself vaguely as the pupils suddenly narrowed, splitting like that of a cat as the fair face of his lover split into a hideous, unnatural grin. It carved his face in-two, showing rows of glittering teeth as the darkness shattered around them, flaking off like bits of paint as they rapidly flew around them. A blinding white light remained in their wake, piercing through the fragments of inky black.

Antonio hissed, shielding his face as one of the shards sliced into his cheek as it went past. They were sharp, shards of wild, untamed glass dancing in a whirlwind as golden eyes looked on.

"Give up," a voice instructed, guttural and sickly and not at all human as Antonio willed himself forward, arms up in defense against the onslaught as he pressed on.

"NEVER," he promised as he was abruptly thrown backward. Antonio cried out in pain as his head collided with something hard and unseen.

Laughter erupted from behind him, more like the rumble of rolling thunder.

Antonio rolled over, willing himself to stand. Something hot ran down the side of his face, he was sure of it. But he was still Scrying, right? He wasn't actually here. He was on Kirkland's ship...right?

He blinked as the thing with those yellow eyes looked upward. If Antonio didn't know better, he would have thought he saw a flicker of distress ghosting those distorted features as it suddenly disappeared.

"WAIT!" Antonio cried, "YOU SON OF A BITCH, GET BACK HERE!" he roared, slashing his sword at naught but air as he breathed haggardly.

The silence was suddenly broken, the sound of waves lapping against the hull of a ship meeting his ears. The pain in his head was gone, he noted with a thrill.

"The sea," he reported dutifully, as he allowed a sly grin to creep across his bloodied face, "And _my_ fucking ship," he added.

He _was_ still Scrying.

And now, he had the upper hand.

* * *

Lovino hesitantly opened the door of the cabin, poking his head out into the dark night.

He blinked.

And blinked again.

Kirkland's ship was hurtling toward them, racing neck-and-neck with _La Conquistadora_ like a horse-driven chariot as it sheared through the turbulent, white water and--

Lovino screamed and flung himself back into the cabin as a resounding BOOM met his ears.

_They were being fired at._

He kicked the door shut and clambered across the floor, plastering himself against the far wall as his mind raced. There was no telling how much ammunition the other ship had, although it was probably a lot considering that they had STOLEN ANTONIO'S FUCKING GUNPOWDER--

BOOM.

BOOM.

_CRACK_.

Lovino lunged for the door, teeth bared in rage. He'd be damned if he'd let that British bastard wreck Antonio's ship, fight him to the last fucking--

He shrieked as the door abruptly swung open, missing his face by mere inches. He staggered back as Pearl entered, amber eyes ablaze with a light Lovino didn't like the looks of. He had seen that sinister glint before, in a pair of the greenest, most expressive eyes he'd ever--

"GET OUT HERE," Pearl snapped as she pointed out at the enemy ship, "START RETURNING FIRE IMMEDIATELY," she ordered as she pivoted on her heel and stalked out to the rail. Her delicate hands were clenched into tight fists at her sides.

"S-stay down!" Lovino cried as he raced toward her. He managed to tackle her to the deck as a loud BOOM resounded over the thunder. He winced as something whistled past where Pearl's head had previously been and slammed into the main mast with a loud CRACK. Splintered wood rained down onto the deck as lightning flashed, blinding him. He furiously blinked away patches of white light as Pearl growled at him.

"GET OFF," Pearl snapped, thrashing about and smacking him off of her. Lovino scrambled to his feet, stealing a look at the mast worriedly. They had managed to graze the mast, leaving a halfmoon-shaped battle scar in their wake. The sail had been torn as well.

Lovino whirled around as a firm hand grasped his shoulders, fingernails digging into his skin. Pearl was positively livid, eyes smoldering beneath wild blonde hair as she glared down at him.

"You have your orders," she hissed dangerously as lightning flashed; it illuminated her face strangely, making Lovino jump, "Now DO AS COMMANDED,"

Lovino gulped as dread crept into him, seeping from her fingertips and filling his chest. It was heavy, molasses-like, he thought absently as he struggled to escape her clutches. He immediately regretted it as his head exploded with pain, lights flashing in front of his vision as she shoved him backward. He fell to the deck, clutching his temples and cringing as it finally subsided.

He yelped as he was abruptly hoisted upward by his shirt. For someone so petite, she was incredibly strong. But, he reasoned as he felt the pain in his head being replaced by a sweet numbness, he deserved punishment for what he had done. He clearly hadn't been thinking properly.

"Now. Go," she said curtly, releasing him.

Lovino hit the deck at an all-out sprint, making his way to the armory below deck.

* * *

"Got 'im!" Arthur cheered as he was drowned out by thunder roaring angrily overhead. He spun the wheel again, bringing the Tern in closer as a series of loud BOOMs rocked the ship. Mat had started out with cannonballs, based upon the noise, and had managed to land a hit on the main mast. At least Arthur was fairly certain he had; it was difficult to discern through the rain.

Now that they were closer, they should be able to get some chains involved. Those could do some heavy damage, even snap a mast.

_"Here's hoping,"_ Arthur thought to himself frantically as he tugged at the wheel. He looked up as lightning sizzled and erupted onto the deck, blinding him as he clung to the wheel for dear life.

"CAPTAIN!" someone cried as he blinked patches of bright light from his vision. Sam was at his side, hoisting him up to a standing position, "You all right?!"

"Fine," Arthur grunted, "What's the situation below deck?"

BOOM.

BOOM.

_CRACK_.

"That one definitely got 'em!" Sam declared with a laugh, "Take THAT, ya bastards!"

"I need to bring us in closer," Arthur muttered, mostly to himself, "Get those sails adjusted--we're gonna try and board!"

"Aye, Captain!" Sam answered, bolting onto the deck to deliver the command.

Arthur drew a deep breath, spitting out a mouthful of rainwater. The rain had picked up after that cracking noise--damn thing probably could sense that they were close. Now, all he needed to do was make sure--

BOOM.

THUD.

Arthur yelped as he was tossed off balance, the Tern rocking dangerously beneath his feet as he paled.

They were returning fire.

"God DAMN it!" he shouted as he took hold of the wheel and savagely whipped it portside. First thing on the agenda when he boarded that ship was to find that little Italian bastard responsible for that hit to the hull, more toward the bow. The blast had definitely done damage, though from the feel of the ship beneath him it was above water level. They were safe...for now. Arthur growled every curse word he knew as he gripped the wheel tightly. He'd find that guy, all right. He'd strangle the son of a bitch himself.

BOOM.

CLANG.

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.

Oh, Mat was hot now. The Tern returned fire with a ferocity Arthur hadn't heard in quite some time, blast after blast accompanied by a metallic clang and hideous crack of splintering wood. He squinted through the rain, trying to make out the other ship. Unfortunately, he couldn't see worth a damn. Based on the calamity, though, _something_ was working.

He frowned worriedly as he gave the order for his and Antonio's men alike to grab grappling hooks, stealing a look over at the enemy vessel.

A pair of blazing, amber-colored eyes seethed at him through the veil of rain.

* * *

Notes: Pirates would throw all kinds of things into cannons, chains being one of them. They were used to crack masts and break sails, and could do some heavy damage. Navigating into the wind (termed "upwind") in a sailing ship was and still remains today quite a task. One would have to tilt the sails and rudder in order to propel the ship forward, using the wind itself to work around it at angles and keep the ship moving. Good job, Arthur!


	25. Chapter 25

Little golden threads, spun ever so elegantly as they crisscrossed around and above and within the very soul of the world. Antonio smiled, murmuring to himself through his self-induced trance as he navigated the intricate golden spider web. Technically, he was the fly, but a smart one. He did not wriggle frantically in the strings of his confinement, against the threads binding him and holding him fast. He was a captive of his own design, a willing participant in something far beyond himself.

He focused intensely on where two threads in particular intersected. He had followed one of them before, felt the familiar thrum of power resonating from it like the plucked string of a violin. It was vibrant and strong, teeming with the unmistakably intoxicating crackle of magic. The other thread was quite thin by comparison, and not nearly as brilliant. It was frayed, tendrils of wispy fibers clinging pitifully to the other strand.

He inhaled deeply, reporting what he was Seeing to himself as he willed his energy forward. The pain was excruciating, compressing his skull to the point where he saw stars, but he persisted. This was his golden opportunity, and he wasn't about to waste it.

* * *

Alfred slowly got to his feet, hissing as feeling swiftly returned to his legs in a series of sharp pinpricks. He breathed haggardly, shuddering in the cool dampness around him. It was unbearably dark and confining, wherever he was, unease hanging in the moist air making his skin crawl. Arthur's voice had disappeared, but the warmth surging through him remained. It slowly trickled through his limbs as he took an uncertain step forward. He cursed, rubbing his arms and wishing he had a coat.

He squinted into the darkness, frowning. _"I need you to keep fighting,"_ Arthur had said.

"Fighting what?" he whispered, his breath curling out in wisps of white smoke in front of him.

Alfred pushed forward, groping blinding through the darkness as a dull ringing met his ears. He cringed, covering his ears with his hands and stubbornly picking up his pace. Something was horribly wrong with this place. With everything. How had he ended up here?

He shrieked and threw his arm over his eyes as a burst of yellow light flooded his vision. He reluctantly peeked out, blinking. The light illuminated someone, distorted and barely visible.

"Hello?" Alfred murmured as the ringing in his ears intensified. He winced, doubling over as he pressed his palms to either side of his head. "Ow, goddamn it," he hissed as he willed himself forward. The light shone like a jewel, brilliant and strange as it drew him onward.

"Arthur?" Alfred ventured, hope welling within him as the tall silhouette remained motionless, "Arthur, is that you?"

He felt himself becoming frantic as the figure turned and began walking away from him, back into the strange light.

"Wait!" Alfred cried as he broke into a run, following the strange figure as the light began to fade. A nervous whine passed his lips as it winked out of existence altogether and his run turned into a frenzied sprint.

"Come back!" he shouted fearfully as something shot past him. He nearly fell backwards as he stopped dead, balancing unsteadily on his heels before regaining his balance. He whirled around, wide eyes coming to rest upon...something. Something aglow and golden, with a shimmering trail left in its wake. Whatever it was paused, as if examining him.

"...uh..." he trailed off nervously, swallowing, "H-hello?"

No response.

"Look, I'm just trying to get the hell outta here--" he began angrily when the golden figure suddenly approached, trotting over to him with the soft clopping of...hooves?

Alfred blinked as the creature walked over and pressed its nose into his hand. He shakily reached out, touching the creature with his palm. The ringing in his ears immediately ceased, leaving only an uneasy silence in its absence.

A shimmering, golden-colored bull looked up at him with shockingly green eyes. It was warm, radiating heat into his hand as Alfred's heart pounded anxiously. It seemed familiar, in some way Alfred couldn't quite place.

The bull stepped backward, shaking its head as if gesturing for Alfred to follow. He did so reluctantly, setting his jaw stubbornly as the glittering trail of gold led him through the darkness.

* * *

Lovino ran up the steps and out onto the deck as he heard Pearl shriek. He had nearly dropped a cannonball in his haste, scrambling over it as he dashed forward. They were close enough to board by now, damn it all, and--

He stopped dead as a series of thuds met his ears over the pounding of rainwater on the deck above.

 _Goddamn grappling hooks_.

"Shit," he hissed as he sprang up the steps two at a time and ran out onto the deck. It was _pouring_ outside, veiling the entire ship in an impenetrable sheet of water. He pressed ahead, hands outstretched as he tried to find his way to Pearl. Come to think of it, how had Kirkland's men managed to board with the rain coming down like this...?

He yelped as his hands met resistance. Whoever it was whirled around, hair matted to his head as he haphazardly swung through the wall of water. Lovino fell to the deck with a damp thud, barely even audible over the roar of the rain crashing down onto him. He couldn't see SHIT.

"Oh, for FUCK'S SAKE!" Lovino roared as he scrambled to his feet. He slid unsteadily on the planks, brandishing his knife as he slowly moved forward. This was fucking ridiculous. Goddamn _Kirkland_ , with his stupid--

He threw himself onto the deck as a bolt of lightning crackled overhead, his knife falling from his hands. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end in the electrified air. That had felt as if it had grazed the ship, it was so close.

_"...rain...heavy rain..."_

Lovino looked around wildly, blinking rain out of his eyes as he searched wildly for the source of the voice. Barely above a whisper, hardly even there at all.

_"...storm...two ships..."_

He paled, rising to his feet and looking up into the angry, stormy sky. The rain was letting up, slowly revealing the commotion on the deck of the ship. Lovino kept his eyes glued onto the clouds above, a swell of hope drowning out everything as he whispered:

"Antonio?"

* * *

Arthur winced as an ungodly shriek erupted from Pearl's throat. Primal, dark--akin to something one would hear in the death throes of a wounded animal. And, Arthur noted as he drew his sword, there was nothing in the world that was more dangerous.

"Careful," he warned the men behind him, "Remember, that _isn't_ Pearl. We are merely trying to disarm, not kill,"

If he had been heard, Arthur received no confirmation.

Antonio's ship had taken quite a beating from the barrage of cannon fire. The main mast had been cleaved in two places, the splintered remnants spilled out clumsily onto the deck. Pearl looked...positively horrifying, now that he could see her properly since the rain let up. Her long hair was matted to her face, only one glaring amber eye visible through the curtain of gnarled strands. Her head was bowed, looking over the lot of them with a vicious snarl. Her fists were clenched at her sides, trembling slightly.

"Pearl--" Arthur began. He was abruptly cut off by Pearl flinging her left arm into the air.

A shard of the broken mast shot upward and slammed into Smit. He stared at Arthur with wide eyes, mouth moving in disbelief as his hands strayed to the splinter jutting from his abdomen. Red blossomed out onto the wet fabric of his shirt, dribbling onto the deck as he fell to his knees.

Arthur looked on in horror as Smit emitted a strangled gurgling sound, blood pooling in his mouth as he collapsed onto the deck.

Nobody spoke. Nobody _could_ , for a time.

"You...you BITCH!" Gil cried suddenly as he lunged forward.

"Gil, NO--!" Sam shouted as he grabbed Gil by the arm and yanked him back. Gil struggled, cursing up a storm as Sam restrained him. His protests quickly dissolved into hysterical sobbing as thunder rolled overhead.

Arthur swallowed nervously. Damn that Antonio, leaving him to figure out what in the bloody hell to do. Sure, the rain had let up, but NOW what?

"Pearl, please," Arthur pressed, tightening his grip on the hilt of his sword. One very bright, amber eye narrowed suspiciously at him as Pearl growled. Arthur fought back a shudder; she didn't sound human.

 _"It isn't her,"_ he reminded himself frantically.

"No," she whispered, snapping her head to the heavens and throwing her hands outward. Arthur took a cautious step toward her as the sky blazed an unnatural shade of emerald green. Thunder roared, lightning slamming onto the ship as the entire crew erupted into a panic. Splinters sprayed the deck as the scent of charred wood singed Arthur's nostrils.

* * *

Alfred dutifully followed his new companion through the dark, the glittering trail of light blazing a path for him. He couldn't help but wonder how he had ended up in...wherever this was. The last thing he remembered was the other pirates at the island and--

He stopped dead as something faint caught his ears. Soft and mournful sobbing, the unsteady intake of breath.

Alfred squinted as something came into view, a small figure curled into a ball. It was illuminated in a very faint light, quivering as whoever it was wept. He slowly approached, biting his lip nervously.

"Hello?" he asked softly.

The sobbing only intensified. Alfred continued his approach, noting with a jolt of fear that his newfound bull friend was not at his side. The creature stood rooted in place, watching him with those large green eyes. Alfred gulped, drawing a deep breath as he dared to move closer.

It was definitely a woman, now that he was near enough to discern. Her long blonde hair spilled in waves and onto the empty floor around her, obscuring her face from view. Her small hands were wrapped tightly around her knees as she lay on her side, sobbing miserably. Alfred crept closer, tentatively crouching next to her.

"Hello?" he repeated as he cautiously reached out and touched her shoulder.

The sobbing instantly stopped as she curled in more tightly to herself. A metallic clinking noise accompanied her movement. Chains?

"Hey, it's all right, I'm not gonna hurt--"

"GO AWAY!" she cried as she tightly tangled her fingers into her hair.

Alfred froze; he knew that voice.

"Pearl?" he blurted, reaching out and prying her hands from her head. Her fingers were like ice, stiff and cold. Alfred's panicked mind vaguely worried that he risked snapping them as he awkwardly brushed her hair out of her eyes. Pearl's hands instantly clapped over her face as her crying began anew.

"Pearl, it's Alfred," he said as gently as he could manage over the swell of relief that he wasn't the only one trapped here, "C'mon, Pearl, look at me,"

She reluctantly peeked out at him from between her fingers. Her bleary brown eyes were tinged with red, and a sickly purple stained the skin beneath them. She looked awful, Alfred thought to himself worriedly as he cautiously smoothed her hair.

"...Alfred?" she squeaked as a fresh wave of tears rolled from her eyes and over her fingers.

"Yeah, it's me," Alfred reassured her as he reached down and placed his hand over hers, "Are you all right?" he added out of habit, though she obviously wasn't.

"Alfred," she spluttered through a sob. Alfred hesitated only briefly before putting his other arm over her shoulders and drawing her into his chest. He murmured words of comfort, stealing a look over at his guide. The bull remained motionless, watching.

"Alfred, what's happening?" she whispered, shivering.

"I don't know," he answered honestly, "But we've gotta get out of here,"

"...I can't," she said quietly.

Alfred looked down at her worriedly. She had taken her hands from her face, and was looking at him with a haunting, hollow expression he hoped he never would see on a human being ever again. She gulped, blinking back tears as she slowly gestured to her legs.

Thick bands of metal encircled them, chains of dull metal links looping around her and reaching down toward the ground. Alfred fought the urge to bite his lip, choosing to set his jaw instead as he reached down and began the task of unwinding the chains from around her legs.

"It won't work," Pearl murmured weakly.

"It _will_ ," Alfred insisted, "You have to believe that, Pearl. Okay?"

He hesitated as he unraveled the chains from her body. They disappeared _into_ the floor, somehow, passing through slowly as if he had set them onto molasses. He could just make out the outline of the metal links, as if they were embedded into a slice of glass, but Pearl remained tethered by her right ankle. There was no discernible endpoint, like they went on forever. He pounded his fists on the ground beneath them, desperately clambering to find a weak point, something--

"It's useless, Alfred," Pearl said tiredly as she shook her head, "It's just no use,"

* * *

Arthur cursed and fell to the floor, the crackling sizzle of electricity buzzing past him as he scrambled to get out of harm's way. Men were shouting, scattering in every which direction as wave after wave of piercing white light turned night into day.

"Pearl!" he cried desperately, crawling along the railing and cautiously moving toward her.

He stopped dead as a shard of the broken mast shot through the pulses of light and his right side exploded with pain.

"Arthur!" Mat shouted as Arthur doubled over onto the rail, clutching at the wound below his ribs. The splinter must have gone straight through, he mused vaguely as his fingertips sought out the offending object and came up empty, save for the sickly sheen of his own blood. Mat was at his side instantly, yanking him down onto the floor and shoving him behind a stack of crates. He quickly drew his pistol and leapt to his feet, shouted something Arthur couldn't make out over the roar of thunder overhead, and fired.

"Mat, NO!" Arthur cried as he attempted to wrench the weapon from the doctor's spindly wrist. He yanked his arm free, but didn't fire again. The lightning abruptly halted, leaving an eerie silence.

"Goddamn it, Arthur, I had to do SOMETHING," Mat insisted as Arthur scrambled to his feet, leaning on the crates as he looked to Pearl.

She was still standing, still as stone and equally as silent. Arthur breathed a sigh of relief through the throbbing pain in his side; Mat hadn't been aiming to kill, or she would have been dead. He had hit the deck below her feet, most likely, based on the tendrils of white smoke slowly rising from the planks before her.

But the smoke wasn't all that was there.

"Enough already," Ange said, defiantly raising her little chin in that strange light she emitted. "Pearl" glared down at her venomously, fingers twitching in agitation.

"And how did _you_ get out?" Pearl demanded.

"Doesn't matter," Ange insisted as she placed her hands upon her hips, "I am not going to let you harm my brother anymore,"

* * *

Ludwig felt his jaw fall open. There was a little girl standing on the deck of the ship. A _glowing_ little girl, to be more precise. He rubbed his eyes and blinked furiously, but she was still there, conversing with that woman who was clearly not human. He couldn't make out what they were saying over the thunder rolling overhead, but he was certain it wasn't good.

He looked to Feli, who looked equally as stunned.

"Now is our chance," Kiku murmured quietly as he tugged on Ludwig's shirtsleeve.

"Huh?" Ludwig blurted stupidly, his mind racing.

"The creature. It is distracted," Kiku elaborated as he pointed at him, "Do you still have the stone?"

Ludwig fished said object from his back pocket, cringing. He was lucky he had the presence of mind earlier to store it someplace safe; it probably would have fallen into the Atlantic, along with himself as he drowned...

" _Ludwig_ ," Kiku hissed.

"R-right, sorry," Ludwig answered shakily as he took the stone from his pocket and gulped. The damned thing glinted innocently at him, catching the dim light. It was probably somewhere near dawn, he wagered, based on the slight brightening of the sky above.

"Good. Now to get it near enough where the creature will--"

Kiku's explanation was cut short by the ship violently lurching, sending the lot of them sprawling onto the deck.

"What was THAT?" Feli cried as he whirled around. Ludwig jumped to his feet, only to be knocked off-balance by another sharp rap to the ship.

* * *

"What the fuck?!" Mat blurted as he lost his balance and tumbled into Arthur, who whimpered in a rather unmanly voice when the man's elbow slammed into his injured side. He saw stars for a moment, reeling.

"Sorry!" Mat apologized as he applied pressure to the wound and Arthur cringed, "What the hell's going on, though?!"

Arthur was about to respond when another violent thud wracked the ship. He joined his first mate in clinging to the rail for dear life, gritting his teeth and cursing bitterly. He couldn't see Pearl or Ange from here; he needed to be able to--

All thought ground to a screeching halt as something gold-colored caught his eye, hovering over the surface of the water below. He blinked, staring in disbelief at what was undoubtedly charging the hull of the ship before finally managing to speak.

"Mat," he managed after a moment.

" _What?_ " Mat demanded angrily.

"Look," Arthur ordered.

Mat was silent for a moment, no doubt seeing the same bizarre thing that Arthur was.

"What th...? Is that a...?" Mat spluttered before finding his voice, "Is that...a bull?"

* * *

Lovino strained to hear Antonio's voice as the ship was violently rocked. Everyone was shouting, demanding answers to something that nobody could explain.

"Antonio?" he called uncertainly, closing his eyes. He had heard him a moment ago, he was certain of it.

His eyes snapped open as familiar laughter met his ears. Light-hearted, boisterous and full of life, the sound made Lovino's heart swell. Lovino hadn't heard that laugh in a very, very long time.

"I'm afraid you're not in charge anymore," Antonio's voice stated. It was much louder now, as if he was standing on the deck of the ship.

"Impossible," Pearl stated angrily, looking around her wildly.

"He's right!" the little...girl? stated brightly as she rocked on the balls of her feet. Lovino gaped; where the fuck had she come from?

"STOP," Pearl demanded as she threw her hands up. A flash of white light erupted in the clouds above--

\--and promptly disappeared as the ship was once again shoved forward.

"STOP IT," Pearl demanded with a growl, "IMMEDIATELY,"

"No can do," Antonio quipped, "Now be a good little...whatever you are, and get the fuck out of that poor _señorita's_ body,"

"Never!" Pearl shrieked, pulling at her hair and gnashing her teeth.

Lovino screamed as his entire body was abruptly wracked with pain. His knees fell out from underneath him as he tumbled to the deck. Based on the noise around him, so had everyone else.

He tried to form words, but his mouth wasn't cooperating. His vision was failing him, bursts of light exploding from behind his eyelids as he grit his teeth in agony.

* * *

"Oh no you don't," Antonio hissed, doubling his efforts as he focused intensely on the single golden thread. Green-colored and sickly, it stood out like a beacon among the rest, an ugly flaw in the glimmering tapestry. He tried to quell the rising panic in his gut as the entire crew was assaulted, the green thread pulsing dangerously. Disturbing the ship hadn't been enough to get the thing to surrender just yet. He poured more of himself into the green thread, focusing his energy into that single point in the intricate web. He was steadily growing weaker; he had to move quickly.

"Come on, figure it out," he whispered to the strand. Try as he might, he couldn't get his voice into that void, that space in which there were two unsuspecting prisoners, "We're running out of time,"

* * *

Alfred pounded his fists into the floor until his hands were bruised and throbbing, cursing through grit teeth as Pearl looked on sadly.

"This...this just doesn't make sense," he muttered as he shook his head, "This is crazy,"

"It won't make sense, I'm afraid," Pearl sighed, defeated, "This isn't real. We're not even awake right now,"

Alfred gaped at her, blinking. What he wouldn't give to just wake up, if that was true.

Pearl smiled weakly and embraced him, pressing her cheek into his chest.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, "But I had to do it,"

"...do what?" Alfred asked, dread falling over him. He didn't like her tone.

Heavy silence hung between them for quite some time before Pearl elaborated, drawing a shaking breath in preparation; her chest rattled.

"Do you remember...that thing in the fog? The thing that Arthur and I saw?" she asked.

"Yeah," Alfred answered with a jolt of unease.

"And how we thought it might be...looking for a new host?" she continued as her voice quivered.

Alfred's blood ran cold.

_Oh God._

"Wait, what are you saying?" he demanded as Pearl began crying again. He pried her off of his chest and braced her shoulders, looking into her eyes, "Pearl, what the hell happened?"

Her watery eyes welled over, spilling down her gaunt cheeks as she drew another deep breath.

"It wanted Arthur. It took you to try and get to him," she explained quietly.

Alfred felt the blood drain from his face; his hands were shaking.

"...what?" he squeaked. He felt sick.

"It possessed you to try and force Arthur to surrender," Pearl explained with a shiver, "And believe me, Alfred, it was all I could do to keep him from doing it--"

"Wait," Alfred blurted, trying to wrap his head around what she was saying, "Wait, you're saying... _Arthur_ has that thing--?"

"No," she insisted as she shook her head, blonde hair waving about wildly, "I stepped in and took his place. He fought me, though, Alfred," she added with the tiniest, barely perceptible grin, "He tried so hard to stop me. He's a truly great person. Best friend I ever had," she mused quietly.

Alfred would have felt some form of pride or something for Arthur's character were he not panicking. He shuddered, taking his hands from Pearl and wrapping his arms around himself. That thing had been inside of his head, doing God _knows_ what and Arthur and the others were _still out there_ and--

He retched, covering his mouth with his hand as Pearl reached out and rubbed his back comfortingly. Her now very short chain clinked as she moved, echoing in the darkness.

"S-so where the hell are we?" Alfred demanded as he breathed deeply, his breath billowing out in wisps of smoke, "That thing is...it's in your _body_?"

Pearl nodded sadly, taking a moment to wipe the tears from her face.

"I think this is where we go when we Scry," she stated quietly, "It feels the same, anyway, only...well, this time I can't get out,"

"But we're not Scrying," Alfred insisted, "We can't be--I _can't_ Scry," he added shakily, on the verge of hysterical. Pearl sensed his unease and took his quivering hand into one of hers. He jumped; her skin was frigid.

"Maybe, maybe not," Pearl murmured, tilting her head at him thoughtfully, "But we obviously aren't in control, here,"

"But...can't you do something?" Alfred pressed worriedly, "I mean, if you're Scrying--"

"Don't you think I would have done something if I could have by now, Alfred?" Pearl snapped irritably, glaring at him, "I mean, if we _were_ truly Scrying that would mean that we were lucid, and we could...oh my God," she blurted, eyes widening suddenly as she squeezed his hand so tightly that it hurt.

"What?" he demanded.

"Oh my GOD, Alfred, that's it!" she cried as she tried to get to her feet, forgot about the chains, and was forced back down again by her bonds. Alfred blinked at the sudden fire in her eyes, confused.

"...what's it?" he asked uncertainly.

"I might be able to...hold on," she paused, closing her eyes and breathing deeply, "Focus on these chains, Alfred. Imagine what they would look like if they were broken,"

Alfred blinked, frowning at her before reluctantly closing his eyes.

"Are you doing it?" she demanded.

"Trying to," Alfred sighed as his head began to throb, "I don't really know what we're--"

"Just keep it up," she breathed, her voice taking on that damned dream-like quality that emerged in Arthur's whenever he was staring into his black obsidian plate. Alfred gulped, squeezing his eyes closed and clenching his trembling fists in his lap.

He jumped as a cracking sound filled the air. Pearl yelped, joining him in looking around wildly.

"W-what was that?" Alfred asked, his gaze immediately being drawn to the floor.

A crack had appeared, golden yellow and pulsing through the blackness. The chains beneath the floor were illuminated nicely now, seeming to go on forever into the abyss.

"We're breaking it--keep going!" Pearl cried happily, "Focus on breaking that son of a bitch wide open!"

Alfred gulped, watching in awe as the tiny fracture turned into a fissure, crackling and whining as the glass was forced apart. Warm light filled the space they were in, chasing the darkness as it--

"STOP IT. IMMEDIATELY," a booming voice demanded.

Alfred screamed as he felt himself falling. He haphazardly grabbed onto Pearl, pulling her close as the two of them tumbled into oblivion.

* * *

Arthur must have passed out at some point, he reasoned vaguely. He awoke to searing pain racing across every last inch of his body, cursing loudly as he gripped tightly onto the crates. Mat wasn't faring much better, based on the fact that he was curled into a ball and motionless.

"Mat?" Arthur wheezed as he agonizingly climbed onto all fours. His first mate didn't respond, breathing haggardly. Arthur stole a look up; Pearl was on her knees, clasping onto her head through his mottled vision. Ange stood vigil, her little arms crossed over her chest defiantly.

"Pearl," Arthur hissed as he crawled toward her, his slick red palms sliding clumsily along the planks. Ange turned around and smiled at him.

"She's nearly there, Arthur," she praised, "Just a liiiiiitle bit more..."

Arthur jumped as Pearl screamed and made his skin crawl. It was more like a howl than anything, a bitter lamentation of something ancient and wild and utterly lost--

"Lovi!" someone cried to Arthur's left. He looked over; the burly German man from Antonio's ship was throwing something. It sailed through the air, glowing bright blue as someone else Arthur couldn't quite make out caught it with unsteady hands.

* * *

"Lovi!" Ludwig cried. Lovino spun, instinctively reaching out and catching whatever it was the first mate had tossed his way. He looked down into his palms and recoiled.

That FUCKING stone.

"WHY THE FUCK--?" he demanded angrily as someone else cut him off.

"Fratello, hurry!" Feliciano shouted. Lovino hesitated only briefly before launching himself at Pearl. He rushed forward with a cry, fighting against his pounding headache as he flung the stone at her.

It collided with the side of her face and hovered in the air, twinkling elegantly for a brief moment before flooding the world with a flash of blue-green light.

* * *

Arthur screamed and fell to the deck as he looked on in horror. Pearl was shouting something at the top of her lungs, bellowing in a language he didn't understand as a flash of overwhelming blue light blinded him. He squinted, blinking furiously as a plume of _something_ dark ripped free from Pearl's mouth, streaming into the angry sky. The horrifying howling continued, intensifying and rising into a high-pitched shriek as whatever it was abruptly changed direction and was drawn into the blue light, resisting violently as it was pulled--

The tiny blue stone clattered to the deck as Pearl fell to the floor with a thud.

All was silent.


	26. Chapter 26

Antonio grinned tiredly as the sickly green thread abruptly changed color, returning to a sparkling gold. Pale, but gold nonetheless. _Alive_. He turned his bleary eyes toward the other strands in question, wincing as sudden pain shot through his already throbbing skull. The frazzled thread appeared brighter now, wrapped tightly around the other as they both twinkled quietly. He quirked his lips into a frown as the more prominent strand dimmed slightly, but, eh, Kirkland had certainly seen worse before.

"That bastard'll be fine," he mused to himself with a sigh. Had he the strength, he would have laughed. Who would have thought he'd have it in him, to pull off something like this? It's a good thing that...whatever it was didn't realize how much of itself it had left behind. Antonio realized, probably much too late, that the feeling of the presence fading from him was just that--a presence. That didn't mean a sliver of power he could never possibly have cultivated on his own didn't remain in the void it had once occupied in his mind. It was changing, now...diminishing?

Strange. So, so strange, like a tiny flame winking out of existence in the confines of his memory.

The web twinkled at him as he began floating away, the intricate mesh of spun gold bidding him goodbye. He laughed weakly as he felt the magical energy seep out of him, into the rapidly approaching darkness.

_Dios_ , was he tired. But he had done what he must. He hoped that Lovino was all right, hoped that in time...perhaps he might forgive him. He had put him through so much. Too much.

He wanted to say that he loved him, to fall at his feet and beg for his forgiveness. What he wouldn't give for Lovi to see him now, to look into those hazel eyes, to clasp his olive-skinned hands and...

He smiled weakly as the sparkling gold disappeared.

...it was far too late for that now.

He let himself go, floating in a sea of inky black as he closed his eyes for the last time.

* * *

Arthur half-crawled his way over to Pearl, clumsily turning her over and pushing her wet hair from her face. Her eyes were closed, mouth hanging open silently.

"Pearl, come on," he hissed as he tried to shake her awake. He put his ear to her chest when he received no response, frantically listening for a heartbeat. Footsteps cautiously approached from behind him.

"She all right?" Sam asked reluctantly as he crouched beside him.

"I don't--she's not breathing," Arthur muttered in a panic as the realization hit him. Oh God, what-?

He grunted as he was abruptly tossed out of the way and Mat lunged forward. He pressed his lips onto Pearl's, forcing air into her while he compressed her chest. Arthur could only look on in horror; he couldn't lose her and Alfred. He just couldn't.

"She should be fine, don't worry," Ange said as she materialized at his side.

"How the hell do you know that?" he blurted as he whirled around to face her.

"Shit," Sam hissed as Arthur wobbled, clutching unsteadily onto the deck. His head was pounding, limbs weak and far too cold. Sam offered his arm, but Arthur angrily pushed it aside. He glared up at the little girl in front of him, the only pristine thing in the entire horrific scene.

Ange merely smiled at him, blue eyes far too similar to her brother's crinkling at the edges.

He jumped and spun to look in Mat's direction as Pearl coughed.

"Pearl?!" he practically screamed as he clambered over to her. The coughing abruptly ceased, replaced by an unnerving silence. She was unusually pale, even for her, and Arthur didn't like how still she was.

"She's alive," Ange explained from behind him just as Mat opened his mouth; he clamped it shut with a soft click, throwing a glare at Ange for good measure.

"It's all right now, it's gone!" Ange proclaimed gleefully, twirling around and giggling.

"And how the hell do you know that?" one of Antonio's sailors asked--the Greek one, unless Arthur was mistaken. It was hard to tell at this point.

" _Because_ , silly, if it were still here, Alfie and Pearl would still be under its control," she teased, shaking her head and wagging her long braid, "But they're not!"

"Y-you're certain?" Arthur ventured, wanting to hope but not willing to commit just yet.

"Positive!" she chirped, "But I've gotta go soon," she added glumly as she scuffed her little foot on the deck.

"Go?" Mat blurted, "Go where?"

"Back where I came from," Ange answered simply, shrugging. She skipped over to Pearl and looked her over, tilting her head, "But don't worry; Alfie will be all right,"

Arthur felt a weight lift from his shoulders at that, but...

"What about her?" Arthur asked with trepidation.

Ange's blue eyes looked him over sadly as she slowly shrugged her shoulders.

"I can't say," she admitted with a frown, "But...maybe,"

Arthur gulped, attempting to stand and failing. Sam offered his arm once again, silently. Arthur accepted it, hoisting himself to his feet as he looked around.

The deck was an absolute mess, littered with debris and...oh, God.

Arthur quickly turned away as his eyes fell upon Smit's body, run through with a mast shard and lying unceremoniously slumped onto the deck, but not fast enough to miss Gil. He stood beside his friend in silence, head to his chest and quivering.

Arthur's focus turned to the horizon. Dawn had broken, the red beacon of light illuminating the sea and the glinting hull of the Tern. There was a good-sized hole toward the bow, gaping like a jagged cave, but Arthur had little time to fuss over it. Hell, he simply lacked the strength to be angry about it after all of this.

He looked over as Ange danced over to him, smiling.

"I gotta go, Arthur," she said with a sigh, "But I'll always be around. Take care of Alfie for me, will you?"

Arthur was about to answer that of course he would, but--

"Because I'll _know_ it if you don't," Ange said as her grin deteriorated into a scowl. A flash of blue and she was gone. Arthur shuddered, grateful for her absence.

"...Captain?" Caleb asked weakly after a moment's silence.

"...gents," Arthur said reluctantly as he allowed Sam to help him stand, "Let's get the hell off of this ship,"

* * *

They watched the men scramble to tend to their injured, to bury their dead. One of them had even kicked the infernal blue stone over the side of the ship, damning it to falling through the deep. How wonderful a sight, to see their prison sinking into oblivion, never to threaten them again. Now, they merely needed to regain their strength.

Those fools, thinking that would be enough to stop them. They lacked the power, the incantations, the mastery of magic that they hadn't seen in millennia.

However, that Antonio character had been stronger than they had anticipated. They had been weakened--far too weakened to maintain hold over the girl and try to keep Antonio's meddling at bay. But, in the end, it worked out well. None of them realized, and none of them would until the time was right.

They watched from teal blue eyes while the lot of them all banded together, though they knew it was only temporary. It was only a matter of time before they all started trying to kill each other, until the resentment grew to where it made them malleable, easy to...manipulate.

"Heracles, get over here!" one of them shouted, gesturing toward them, "C'mon, I need your help with this,"

"Of course," they answered with a slight nod of the Greek man's head.

They smiled.

Yes, it was only a matter of time.

And they could wait.

* * *

Arthur dashed into the infirmary--well, more like stumbled blindly, with his injuries. He made his way over to Alfred's cot, falling clumsily to his knees as he leaned over and pressed a palm to Alfred's forehead.

He was _warm_.

Arthur laughed weakly as he nearly wept with relief. Ange had been right. Alfred appeared to simply be asleep now, peacefully so.

"We did it, Love," he murmured as he stroked Alfred's soft bangs. He leaned down, resting his head upon Alfred's chest as his vision started wavering. His injured side throbbed angrily at him, not at all pleased at being ignored.

"We did it," he whispered as darkness took him.

* * *

Lovino bit his lip nervously as they buried the dead on board _La Conquistadora_. A sailor's funeral, a burial at sea for Kirkland's crewman. He shuddered as the body hit the waves with a splash, trying not to recall the haunted expression on the man's face as he descended.

He turned toward what was awkwardly being handed over from Kirkland's ship, dangling limply from the arms of his crewmen.

Lovino's blood ran cold.

He dashed forward as Ludwig gently brought Antonio onto the ship, laying him out onto the deck to look him over. Kiku stood beside him, his face expressionless as usual.

"No," Lovino breathed, shaking his head, "No no no no he's not dead," he muttered as he clambered onto all fours. Antonio wasn't moving, though a small smirk graced his handsome face.

He was fine. Everything was going to be fine. All he had to do was wake up.

He shook Antonio's shoulder, but nothing happened.

"Hey, c'mon," he hissed.

No response.

"HEY!" he cried suddenly as he reared his arm back to smack him awake--

"No, fratello," Feli said quietly from behind him, his hand clasped around Lovino's wrist.

"Let go of me," Lovino hissed as his heart plummeted into his stomach, "I said LET GO," he cried, wrenching his hand free as a sob escaped from his lips.

Feli wrapped his arms around him, rocking his brother gently as he cried.

* * *

"God damn it," Mat huffed as he walked into the infirmary. As he'd expected, Arthur was hunched over Alfred. He sighed, his entire head throbbing angrily at him. Being the only doctor on ship certainly wasn't easy, especially after all of...this. What _ever_ it all had been; hell if he knew.

"Mat?" Sam's voice asked from the doorway, "Everything all right in--oh shit," he blurted.

"He's fine," Mat assured him as he turned Arthur over and laid him out onto the floor. He was quite pale, but breathing. Probably passed out from blood loss, Mat wagered as he looked him over. The bleeding had slowed, which was a good sign. As long as Mat stopped the flow, he should pull through.

Right. Now to bind his injury.

"What's goin on?" a sleepy voice asked.

"Ah, you're up," Mat greeted as he tore a strip of gauze and began pushing Arthur's shirt and coat aside so he could work. He'd have to undress him properly later, once he had more time (not to mention energy), "Feeling all right?"

"...I guess so," Tom answered reluctantly, "Ugh...the fuck's going on? ...is that the Captain?" he asked with a hint of panic.

"Yeah, uh...he got hurt," Sam answered awkwardly.

"He'll be fine," Mat said curtly as he finished dressing Arthur's wound.

"Well he can have my bed, I'm fine," Tom insisted.

"No, he can stay on the fuckin' floor," Mat snapped as he got to his feet, pointing at Tom accusingly, " _You_ need to rest,"

"But...what about Pearl?" Tom asked quietly, gesturing toward the doorway.

Mat frowned thoughtfully as his gaze turned to Sam. Pearl was nestled to his chest, limp as a ragdoll. He sighed, rubbing his temples tiredly.

"I can just go back to my bunk, really," Tom stated as he slowly sat up. Mat mentally thanked him for not being stupid enough to lurch into a sitting position, unlike _some_ people.

"Yeah, Mat, I can help 'im," Sam offered.

"Fine," Mat conceded with a sigh, "just don't do anything dumb,"

"I'll try," Tom snorted, scooting to the edge of the cot so Sam could place Pearl onto it, "So...she's gonna be all right, right?"

Mat hesitated, looking down at his three patients with a frown. None of them looked to be in "good" shape, but he really didn't like the looks of the sickly gray color to Pearl's skin.

"I really don't know," he answered quietly, "But I want you to get us the fuck out of here as fast as possible once you've got Tom settled," he ordered with a stiff nod, "Got it?"

"Aye," Sam answered with a nod, "The sooner the better,"


	27. Chapter 27

"Captain,"

"Hm?"

"I think it's time for you to turn in," Mat's voice suggested through the darkness.

"No, no, I'm fine," Arthur insisted as he pried his eyes open. They stung as he blinked a few times and managed a weak smile while his first mate looked him over.

"You've been sitting there for three days, Arthur," Mat pointed out as he took a seat on the edge of Pearl's bed. Arthur was stationed between the two cots, slumped into a chair as he anxiously waited for them to awaken. Both of them hadn't even _moved_ , let alone showed any sign of approaching consciousness, for nearly four days now. It made Arthur feel sick, that he couldn't help them. There was literally nothing that he could do.

And so he began his vigil, grasping their hands and speaking to them, pleading for them to hear his voice and give him some inkling, some sign that they were still alive--

"I understand what you're trying to do," Mat said softly, nodding at him, "But you need to rest,"

"I'm not leaving," Arthur insisted as he turned and placed his hand over one of Alfred's, "I can't,"

He inhaled deeply, fully preparing for Mat to argue with him.

"All right," Mat conceded as he rose and headed for the door, "But at least let me get you some tea or something. You look awful,"

"Thanks, Mat," Arthur mumbled. He should have been surprised at the lack of resistance on Mat's part, but the lack of sleep and crushing feeling of hopelessness got in the way.

He leaned back in his seat, rubbing his eyes as he exhaled. Ange had said Alfred would be all right. She had been absolutely certain, or she wouldn't have said that. She _was_ him--part of him, anyway. If she was wrong...

But she wasn't. She _wasn't_.

His gaze drifted onto Pearl, looking more and more corpse-like the longer he dared to look upon her. Ange hadn't been so certain about her fate. She was strong, though. She always had been. She would be fine.

They were both going to be FINE.

Arthur turned back toward Alfred, who still appeared to be asleep. Arthur normally would have thought the spectacle to be a peaceful one, but under the circumstances it was all he could do to not try and shake him awake. It was maddening, watching the two of them like this.

And the worst part was that it was his fault. Mat had, of course, tried to convince him otherwise, but Arthur was no fool. He had led them all right into danger without a second thought. His mind had been too foggy with the prospect of gold, of being the winner in his and Antonio's twisted game they had created for themselves, and for what? His men were either traumatized, dead, or in a coma. His dear friend and the love of his life, hovering between life and death all because of Arthur's idiocy.

He hated himself.

However, he managed a chuckle in self-deprecation at his own thought. "The love of his life." Heh. Well it was true, but Alfred had remarked (jokingly, of course) on a few occasions that Arthur tended to get "sappy" when he was tired. Rubbish, Arthur had always said. What he wouldn't give for Alfred to wake up and poke fun at him now, though.

Sam had set the Tern on a course for God knows where, sending them into open water for a while so they could start to assess the damage. The breached hull was the least of their worries now that they had an entire ship filled with injured sailors, not to mention that most of them were skittish and reclusive after the events that had unfolded. It had changed them all, irreversibly.

He jumped as the door opened behind him, clutching his injured side with a cringe.

"Still nothing?" Mat asked as he closed the door behind him and handed Arthur a cup of tea.

"Not yet," Arthur sighed as he took a drink. It wasn't the usual, but it was hot, "And thanks," he added.

"Sure," Mat answered as he took his seat on the edge of Pearl's bed.

"How are the others doing?" Arthur asked reluctantly after a few moments. He hadn't been able to walk far when he had tried, to be honest, but he didn't think he could face any of them yet anyway. Not with the guilt he felt.

Mat didn't answer right away, drawing a deep breath and releasing it slowly.

"Well," he started as he slapped his hands onto his knees and stood up, "they're handling things as best they can, I suppose, considering,"

"...Gil?" Arthur asked worriedly as he downed another mouthful of tea.

"He's...quiet," Mat explained as he threw Arthur a knowing look.

"I see," Arthur muttered as he tipped the cup and drained it. Rum would have been preferable, actually. Something that burned on the way down to distract him from the crushing sense of failure on his part as a leader. Gil didn't do "quiet." Of course, if Arthur had witnessed his best friend be brutally murdered, he'd not want to talk much either. An awkward silence passed between them for a time, unbroken save for the subtle groaning of the ship as it moved.

"What have I done?" he asked himself as he set the empty cup down on the bedside table and rubbed his temples. Good _God_ , was he tired.

"You didn't do anything," Mat insisted. Arthur blinked; evidently he had spoken his thoughts aloud. Mat returned to his seat on Pearl's bed and leaned back on his arms, "Arthur, there was no possible way you could have predicted any of that,"

"It doesn't matter," Arthur snapped.

"It _does_ matter," Mat snapped back, "You wouldn't have brought us to that goddamned island if you had known what Antonio was up to, am I right?"

" 'Course not," Arthur mumbled, stifling a yawn with the back of his hand.

"And you had no idea that some supernatural thing from hell would send a sea monster after us, or try to lure us to our deaths?" Mat asked crisply, raising an eyebrow at him.

"No," Arthur answered quietly. He was bloody exhausted, his head drooping as he spoke. He snapped it back up and blinked.

"Well then you can't blame yourself," Mat decided as he shrugged, "It doesn't make any fuckin' sense,"

"I can and I do," Arthur growled, yawning again.

"Well you're wrong," Mat sighed as he stood up, "And you need to lie down,"

"No I don't," Arthur yawned. Why was he so tired all of a sudden? It was like he could barely keep his eyes open, as if he could hardly manage to sit up straight...

Wait a minute.

"What was in that tea?" he snapped as he glared at Mat.

"Oh, just a few things," Mat answered innocently, mentally ticking the ingredients off on his fingers, "A little chamomile, some lemongrass..."

"...fuck you, Mat," Arthur groaned as he pulled himself out of his chair, "And I'm _not_ leaving them," he added threateningly.

"Fine," Mat said nonchalantly as Arthur nudged Alfred over and climbed into bed beside him. He didn't even acknowledge being moved, still and silent as ever.

"Sorry, Love," Arthur murmured into the pillow, "But for the record, this is Mat's fault,"

He thought he heard his first mate snort before sleep took him.

* * *

He awoke sometime later, his arm slung over Alfred as he slept. No change, as far as he could tell.

"Good afternoon," Mat greeted from the adjacent cot. He was perched on the end of Pearl's bed, an open book in his hands.

"G'afternoon," Arthur slurred as he rolled into a sitting position and winced. His injury was still quite tender, panging angrily at him.

"How's your side?" Mat asked, noting his discomfort.

"Fine," Arthur lied, "What about them?"

"Nothing," Mat sighed, "I think--"

Arthur snapped his gaze onto Alfred. They had both heard a tiny sound, something akin to a wheeze.

"Alfred?" Arthur asked, instinctively clutching onto his hand and giving it a squeeze, "Alfred, wake up,"

Mat joined him, dragging the chair over.

"Keep calling him," he advised.

"Alfred, come on," Arthur coached anxiously, squeezing his hand probably more tightly than he should have, "Alfred, it's Arthur. Can you hear me?"

He was rewarded with a barely perceptible twitch of Alfred's fingers.

"He's squeezing my hand," he announced excitedly as Alfred groaned.

"Good!" Mat praised, "Keep going,"

"That's it, come on! Can you open your eyes for me?" Arthur pressed.

Silence followed for several moments, until:

"...no," Alfred croaked.

Arthur blinked few times before breaking out into a peal of laughter along with his first mate.

He was all right.

_Alfred was alive._

"Oh come off it," Arthur chided, gently smacking the back of Alfred's wrist, "Come on, now, get up,"

After several moments of coaxing, of grasping his hands and shaking him at intervals, Arthur was rewarded with two slits of deep, sapphire blue. Alfred blinked blearily, squinting at him.

"...'rthur?" he rasped.

"Welcome back, Love," Arthur greeted with the first smile in what seemed like an eternity, relief washing over him in waves. Mat immediately checked his vitals, asking him questions at intervals to make sure he was truly awake. Arthur rubbed his thumb along Alfred's wrist in what he hoped was a comforting gesture, watching attentively. Alfred's head was hurting, that much was clear, but other than that he seemed all right. At least, Arthur sincerely hoped so.

"All right, then, I'll getcha something for your head," Mat announced as he rose from his chair; Alfred winced as the chair legs squeaked against the floor.

"He'll have you patched up in no time," Arthur reassured him with a smile.

"Mm," Alfred answered half-heartedly, breathing shallowly through his nose and slamming his eyes closed to keep the light out.

"Arthur?" he asked suddenly, prying one eye open.

"Yes?" Arthur asked.

"Wha' happened?" Alfred slurred with a frown, "Where are we?"

"The infirmary on the Tern," Arthur answered mechanically as his stomach churned. He knew Alfred, and he knew what questions were rapidly approaching, "But just try and rest for now. We'll talk later, all right?"

Arthur thought he had won when Alfred suddenly gasped and clutched onto his arm.

"Pearl," he said breathlessly, "Where's Pearl?!"

"She's fine, Alfred," Arthur lied as he tried to coax him into relaxing, but Alfred was having none of it. Wild blue eyes darted around the room as he attempted to leap out of bed. Arthur pinned him back down with his arm, noting with worry how little resistance he offered.

"Calm down, now," Arthur insisted as he successfully managed to force him to lie back down, "She's right next to you, see?" he said, gesturing toward the other cot.

Alfred followed his arm, looking up at Arthur worriedly.

"She's...all right?" he squeaked.

"...we're not sure yet," Arthur admitted with a sigh, "But she's tough as nails, Alfred. She isn't one to give up,"

"But..." Alfred trailed off as his eyes slipped closed, "...but she fell..."

"Fell?" Arthur repeated worriedly, "What do you mean? ...Alfred?"

His words fell on deaf ears as Alfred drifted off.

"Mat?" Arthur asked anxiously, turning toward Mat. The doctor had already raced to his patient's side and was checking his pulse.

"I think he's all right," Mat said after a pause, "We'll need to get some food in him soon though," he warned; Arthur nodded helplessly.

"Just keep an eye on him, but I think he's out of the woods for now," Mat continued as he went about preparing medicine to remedy Alfred's headache.

"Right," Arthur mumbled with a resolute nod, sinking into the chair and smoothing Alfred's bangs.

As much as he couldn't wait for him to wake once again, he dreaded Alfred's questions.

He managed a half-smile as Alfred murmured something in his sleep.

For now, this was all that he wanted.

* * *

He slowly opened his eyes, only nothing was there. He _had_ opened them, hadn't he?

He blinked spastically until light flooded his vision, but only partially. It was as if he was looking at a candle through fog, colorless and pale.

"Captain?" a familiar voice asked.

"Who...?" he murmured as what little light that was allowed him was blocked out.

"Antonio?" a more familiar, very dear voice asked.

The color of Lovi's eyes burst in front of him briefly, the purest and deepest hazel. It moved about like a flame, dancing from side to side as Antonio looked on in confusion.

"Lovi?" he breathed, haphazardly raising his heavy arms to grasp him. A pair of hands guided his own to Lovi's face. He couldn't see it, but he knew it was him. He would recognize the angles of his cheekbones anywhere; he had ran his thumbs across them in darkness many times before.

"Hey, you stupid idiot," Lovi greeted, no doubt with a silly grin.

"Captain!" Feliciano chirped from beside him, "You're all right!"

Antonio flinched as the hazel abruptly vanished and yellow took its place, a burst of sizzling embers that slowly drifted in front of him like glowing snow.

"We feared for you," Kiku stated from somewhere next to Feli, based on the voice, "It has been days,"

"...days?" Antonio pressed as he squinted. When Kiku had spoken, he had seen a flash of crimson red, forked like lightning. What...?

"Aye, Captain," Ludwig sighed as Antonio's fuzzy vision became a haze of cerulean. He blinked a few more times, watching as four silhouettes gradually came into focus.

Ludwig, Kiku, Feli, and Lovi hovered over him worriedly from wherever he was lying. A gull cried in the distance and a ribbon of the most radiant white sailed past his eyes, fluttering in front of his crewmen as they slowly came into focus.

But everything was still tinted blue.

"Where are we?" he murmured as he tried to sit up and failed. The sound of his clothes rustling brought a flash of color he couldn't identify to the corner of his vision, causing him to stop dead.

"...well, we're...uh..." Feli stammered as Antonio's world was tinted yellow once again.

"We are on an island," Kiku explained as scarlet lines began tracing arced pathways across Antonio's vision, "There was...a coup,"

"...a-a what?" Antonio stammered as he tried to blink the lines away, but they remained even after his eyes were closed. They only appeared when Kiku spoke, just as the yellow flash did with Feli, but _why_?

"Zhere vas a riot," Ludwig explained with a sigh as Antonio's world abruptly turned blue, "Led by Heracles, of all people," he added as he shook his head.

"We grabbed you and took off in a longboat before they could...well," Kiku trailed off worriedly; the crimson streaks returned, "I regret that we have lost the ship,"

Antonio inhaled deeply through his nose, trying to calm himself down.

The ship, though damaged, was...gone?

 _Heracles_ took his ship?

And something was terribly, terribly wrong with him, to be seeing flashes and colors. Almost like the world was...altered?

Oh _Dios_ , no. Was he awake? Was that thing still...?

No.

No, there was no presence there, no other entity sharing the confines of his mind. His thoughts were his own now, but as for his vision...

"Are you all right?" Kiku asked amid sparks of crackling red, "You appear to be having difficulty seeing,"

Antonio hesitated; leave it to Kiku to figure him out this quickly. The red lines moved forward like fractures in a glass pane, slowly but surely working their way-

"Can you see?!" Feli practically screamed; Antonio winced as the yellow burst of light returned, more intense than ever.

"Yeah, yeah, I can see," Antonio answered after a moment's pause. He looked around, the yellow sparks retreating to the edges of his vision and disappearing, as if he was watching the world through some kind of strange kaleidoscope. It was almost as if he was Seeing, only he was definitely not in a trance. At least, he thought so.

He reached down and pinched himself on the wrist and winced; yes, he was definitely awake.

"...Antonio?" Lovi asked as a spiral of hazel danced around like a top, tapping into the edges of his vision and rebounding.

"Gracias, all of you," he said quietly, "Muchísimas gracias,"

"De nada," Lovi answered with a smile as the hazel-colored object elegantly floated out of sight. He placed his hand over Antonio's and looked down at him with what Antonio prayed was forgiveness. The others drifted off to the side, clearly not wanting to disturb the two of them for the time being.

"Lovi, I'm sorry," he croaked, "I'm so sorry, Mi Vida,"

To his great surprise and relief, Lovi leaned down and kissed him. It was soft and gentle, reassuring and so familiar that Antonio felt his eyes starting to well up.

"I'll never Scry again," he promised as he reached up and ran his fingers through Lovi's soft brown hair and the world's colors returned to what he was used to, "I swear, never again,"

"I know," Lovi answered as a beautiful shimmering hazel painted his world, Lovi's eyes at the very center.

"Te amo," Antonio blurted desperately.

Lovi blinked at him, flushing scarlet amid the glimmering hazel green of the world and snorting.

"Eh, stop gettin' all mushy on me," he jibed, shaking his head and helping Antonio into a sitting position. Antonio inhaled deeply, looking out over the ocean. He smiled at the soft plumes of deep blue that ascended upward with the soft sigh of each wave upon the sandy shore, barely on the fringes of his vision.

So this was his penance. He wanted enhanced Sight, and he had gotten it.

He chuckled bitterly as he looped an arm around Lovi.

"Sight," indeed. What a cruel mistress Fate was. Still, in a way, it seemed fitting.

"Antonio?" Lovi asked uncertainly, "What do we do now?"

"We move forward, Mi Vida," Antonio reassured him through the delicate ribbons of hazel whirling in front of him as he squeezed his shoulder, "To wherever fate takes us next,"

* * *

Notes: Sappy chapter is sappy! The herbs in Mat's tea are used to treat insomnia, and Antonio's condition is based upon Chromesthesia, in which sounds are associated with colors. People who have this condition claim to _see_ music notes, voices, and different noises as colors. Each sound has an associated color which can manifest in different ways. For example, some describe the colors as fireworks, or as lines moving across their vision and trailing off. Enhanced Sight, indeed.


	28. Chapter 28

Arthur spent the better part of the next day attending to Alfred, allowing Mat to focus most of his efforts onto the rest of the crew's injuries. Not that the task was difficult; Alfred was only awake for fifteen minute intervals most of the time, during which times Arthur sprang into action and tried to force some gruel down his throat. It was bloody disgusting--Arthur had tried some--but it was the only food available that Alfred could manage. It would have to do for now. Aside from that, Alfred's hands shook too much for him to attempt to feed himself. Arthur was sure Alfred was embarrassed by it, but he really didn't mind helping him. He was just grateful for every time that Alfred woke up.

He smiled as Alfred stirred, blue eyes fluttering open.

"Hello, Love," he greeted.

"Hey," Alfred answered quietly, wincing.

"Your head?" Arthur deduced.

"Yeah," Alfred grunted, throwing his arm over his eyes with an exhale.

"It'll get better soon, I promise," Arthur said as he reached over and began stirring the bowl of "food" he had placed on the table beside Alfred's cot.

"Ugh, NO," Alfred moaned as soon as he heard the sound of the spoon scraping the bottom of the bowl.

"Sorry, but it's the only thing you can eat right now," Arthur sighed, "We tried other stuff earlier. Remember how that went?"

Alfred sighed. Indeed, it had been a good thing Mat hadn't been around for that one. Arthur had managed to grab a bucket, but barely in the nick of time. Alfred's stomach had clenched up into knots, causing Arthur to abandon trying to feed him completely for several hours while he rested. Gruel, unfortunately, was the only thing so far that would stay down without a fight.

"When are you gonna tell me what happened?" Alfred blurted suddenly.

Arthur paused, busying himself with filling Alfred's spoon. In all honesty, he wasn't sure how to start explaining anything to him. The last thing he wanted was for Alfred to think what had happened was his fault, and he knew that would be right where his mind would go.

"Soon, Alfred," he reassured him as he brought the spoon to his lips, "After you can stay awake longer. Then we'll talk, all right?"

Alfred reluctantly accepted a few spoonfuls before nodding.

"Don't leave anything out, remember?" he mumbled, quickly falling back into unconsciousness.

Arthur rubbed his eyes tiredly, rising from his chair and pacing around the infirmary. 'Don't leave anything out,' eh? He didn't even know where to begin, let alone which segments to omit. He had to be very careful in his choice of words with regard to what "Ange" had told him. The presence of his dead sister was going to be enough of a shock for him, but throwing fragments of a book he had read into the mix might be too much.

He found himself wishing it had just been him, that no other crew members had overheard what Ange had said. Were it not for them, he could just...

No. No, that wasn't right. He had promised Alfred.

But--

He jumped as the door swung open. His first mate entered, rubbing his eyes.

"God DAMN, am I tired," he declared as he kicked the door shut behind him, "How's Alfred holding up?"

"Fine, just resting," Arthur responded, "You just missed him. He's been keeping some food down, though, so..." he added with an awkward wave of his hand.

"Good," Mat said with a nod as he plunked down into one of the chairs, "Pearl?" he asked quietly.

Arthur slowly shook his head as his stomach churned. If she didn't wake up soon, she might...

No. Best not to think about that.

"Well, there's still time," Mat reassured him as he reached over and took Pearl's pulse, "Still nice and strong," he commented under his breath with a nod.

"And...the rest of the crew?" Arthur asked with a worried frown, "How are they?"

Mat hesitated, taking a moment to look him over. Aside from the bandages underneath his clothing and a slight limp when he walked, he was fine. Arthur was certain he was in much better shape than the rest of the crew, much to his shame. They never would have been hurt had it not been for him.

"I think you should go out there and see for yourself," Mat suggested with a nod, "And I'll take care of Alfred, don't worry," he added quickly as Arthur opened his mouth to protest. He closed his jaw with a soft click, taking a moment to gulp before turning reluctantly toward the door of the infirmary.

"Right," he said quietly as his voice wavered; he cleared his throat to conceal it. As much as he hated to admit it, his first mate was right. He could only cower and wallow in his guilt for so long, after all. He was a Captain. A leader.

He drew a deep breath as he pulled the door open.

"Thanks, Mat," he said over his shoulder as he stepped out into the sunlight.

* * *

Physically, the remaining crew of the Tern appeared in decent shape. Most sported bandages or slings of some variety, but Mat had done a decent job in patching them up. What Arthur _couldn't_ see is what worried him, and the silence out on the deck spoke volumes.

He walked over to where they were clustered out on the deck, looking out over the open water in silence. Sam noticed him first, nodding in acknowledgement.

"Hello, gents," Arthur said cautiously as he approached, watching sadly as pair after pair of hollow eyes turned toward him. They all looked haggard, exhausted, and it was because of his stupidity.

"Captain," a few of them murmured half-heartedly as Arthur cleared his throat.

"I just..." he started awkwardly, shaking his head, "I really don't know what to say," he admitted as he looked down at the deck, "I never intended for...any of this. I can't even explain it. And I...never would have put you all in danger had I known of any of this--"

"We know, Captain," Sam offered quietly as Arthur lifted his gaze away from the deck to look at him. The others remained silent, a few nodding slightly to acknowledge their agreement. Gil remained silent, staring resolutely away from him.

Arthur managed to stiffly nod back, his throat suddenly very tight.

"How's Alfred?" Caleb asked quietly, adjusting the bandage around his head.

"He's still in and out of consciousness, but Mat says he should pull through all right," Arthur responded immediately, hating himself for the wave of relief he felt to be able to say that. Now was not the time for feeling lucky, for that ever-present "thank God it wasn't him" feeling to emerge. He frowned; and he called himself a leader.

The men mumbled amongst themselves, although Arthur was unable to discern if they were happy about the news or not.

"And, Pearl?" Sam pried.

Arthur hesitated for a moment, drawing a deep breath first.

"She's...nothing's changed yet," he answered sadly, shaking his head.

The silence that fell was deafening, punctuated by the rattling sound every time George drew a breath. Probably cracked a few ribs, based upon his posture. Gil turned away, looking out over the rail forlornly. It was as if he was searching for something, awaiting for something to pop out of the waves gently sloshing against the hull of the ship.

Arthur steeled himself. He was the Captain of this crew. His men depended upon him, and it was his task to restore morale as much as possible, to set things on as straight a path to "normal" as he could manage.

" I think it's time we paid our respects," he began, clearing his throat, "For the good friends that we've lost. For Ward, for Smit," he paused, watching Gil's shoulders flinch at the latter name, "For Jon, Pete, Tim--all of them. It's time for us to...say goodbye to them,"

He paused again, watching with slight relief at how the lot of them seemed to come to life, looking up at him resolutely. He looked up as a scraping noise caught his attention. Tom had gotten to his feet, leaning upon his crutches.

"Aye, Captain," he said with a nod.

"Aye," some of the others affirmed.

* * *

Arthur was usually more eloquent with his words than this, but he had done what had needed to be done. He had spoken honorably about the five sailors he had the honor of working with, drawing up anecdotes and memories of times he had spent with them and speaking them aloud. The rest of the crew had done the same, laughing at some of the memories and glumly nodding at others. More than one of them had burst into tears, but not a word was said about it. Now was the time for mourning, not pointing out such things.

"...and then this one time--" Caleb began, only to be interrupted by a thumping sound from behind Arthur.

Arthur whirled around and was met by a pair of watery blue eyes. Alfred was clutching onto the outer wall of the infirmary, hidden from view of the other crewmen. He rushed forward without thinking, taking Alfred by the shoulders to support him.

"Alfred, are you all right?" he asked, lifting his jaw to get a better look at him. Tears streamed down his face, pooling at his chin around Arthur's fingers. Arthur's stomach lurched; this was not how he had intended for Alfred to hear news of the others' deaths.

"Arthur," he said shakily, his lower lip trembling, "What happened? What the hell happened?"

* * *

Alfred was speechless, rendered mute by the absurd and horrific tale Arthur wove for him, Mat at his side. He had escorted Alfred back to his cot in the infirmary, insisting that he shouldn't have been out of bed. Mat had fallen asleep in his chair at Alfred's bedside, giving him the opportunity to sneak out and see what was going on.

He couldn't have been prepared for what he had overheard. Five of them? FIVE? All dead?

"Alfred?" Arthur asked worriedly, frowning at him and taking hold of his hand, "Alfred, are you all right?"

"...no," he answered truthfully as he shook his head, "No, that...none of this...a sea monster?" he blurted as Arthur sighed.

"I know, it sounds ridiculous," he admitted, "But we all saw it,"

"...it just went away?" Alfred asked reluctantly, "After it attacked us, it just...disappeared?"

"Yeah, because that damned thing had another plan," Mat snapped hotly, shaking his head, "First that, then the fucking Sirens--"

"Mat," Arthur hissed irritably, throwing him a glare. Mat immediately went silent, mumbling an apology under his breath.

Alfred blinked.

"Sirens?" he said slowly, his head throbbing as he tried to make sense of any of this. It sounded like Arthur was reciting a fairytale or something, not events that had transpired on the ship. He had heard this story before, hadn't he? Wasn't it something...?

"Arthur, that happened in _The Odyssey_ ," Alfred said slowly as he prayed that Arthur hadn't gone mad.

The look Arthur gave him then made him feel nauseous. For the first time that Alfred had remembered, Arthur looked...helpless. Completely and utterly lost, green eyes hollow and forlorn.

"Yes, and it happened to us, too," he explained finally, breaking the tense silence and making Alfred nervous, "This...thing was trying to scare us into giving up the chase," he elaborated, taking Alfred's hand into both of his own.

"But why _The Odyssey_?" Alfred blurted, frowning at the pain that was steadily building in his head, "Where would it have gotten that from?"

He didn't like that look in Arthur's eyes, the pain welling in them.

"You said Pearl had spoken to you," Mat interjected quietly, "What did she say?"

Alfred paused, trying to get his story straight.

"Pearl told me that thing had possessed me because it wanted Arthur," Alfred recalled, "but it took her instead, and...and then we were both trapped until we broke her chains...but--"

That thing...had possessed him.

Possessed HIM.

Alfred's mouth fell open in a silent scream as realization came crashing down like a tidal wave. Arthur and Mat were both talking to him, but he couldn't hear their words over the sound of static roaring in his ears. He clasped his hands to his head, tugging at his hair as Arthur tried to stop him.

* * *

"Alfred," Arthur said, raising his voice as that look came across Alfred's face again, the same look of horror after that fateful night at the cliffs. His face was pale, eyes wide and dull as he shook his head repeatedly. He had fistfuls of his own hair in his hands, clutching onto it so tightly Arthur feared he might tear them out. Mat had joined him in trying to unclench his fists, looking over at Arthur worriedly.

"Alfred, stop," Arthur coached, "What happened had nothing to do with you. None of this was your fault. None of this was _anyone's_ fault, save for that _thing_ ," he added, successfully untangling one of Alfred's hands and pinning it at his side. Alfred didn't even appear to notice, staring in front of him silently as tears rolled down his cheeks.

"Arthur, he's going into shock," Mat warned as he managed to free Alfred's other hand and held it steady. Arthur swore and swung his leg over Alfred's cot, bringing himself onto the bed in front of him.

"Alfred, listen to me," he urged, taking Alfred by the shoulders and looking him directly in the eyes, " _Ange_ helped us, Alfred. She's the one who saved us all,"

He bit his lip, ignoring the panging of his injury as he crouched on his knees in front of Alfred. Something had stirred in his eyes just then, a spark of consciousness.

"I met your sister, Alfred," Arthur continued, watching those eyes blink at him in confusion, "Ange came to help us. She protected you, and she told us how to beat that thing. And we _did_. All because of her,"

"...Ange?" Alfred mumbled quietly; Arthur exhaled slowly, relieved.

"Yes, she showed up," Arthur explained, running his fingers through Alfred's hair and massaging his cheekbones with his thumbs. Alfred relaxed a little, leaning into his touch, "Ange appeared right in front of us, this little blonde girl with blue eyes," he continued with a soft smile, "She looked so much like you, Alfred. I knew it was her right away,"

"So...Ange...was here?" Alfred slurred, eyes widening, "But how?"

"I'm not sure," Arthur admitted, "But she could sense that you needed her, and she came,"

Alfred laughed weakly then, a strangled half-sob escaping his trembling lips as he looked toward the ceiling. He turned his gaze back onto Arthur then, grasping his hands.

"I can't believe I missed her," Alfred murmured, "I wish I could have seen her,"

"She's always with you, Alfred," Mat reassured him as he gently patted him on the back, "Told us so. Didn't she, Arthur?"

"Aye, she did," Arthur confirmed with a nod. This seemed to soothe Alfred a bit as he nodded and managed a weak smile.

"But what about Antonio?" Alfred asked quietly, "What happened to him and his crew?"

Arthur sighed tiredly, shaking his head.

"He lost men too," he admitted, "But I'm afraid I don't know what happened to him,"

Alfred nodded slowly, biting his lip.

"Alfred, I--"

Arthur was cut off by the rustling of sheets from across the room, followed by a soft moan. He looked up, watching as Mat lunged over toward the patient in the adjacent bed.

"Pearl?" Mat asked anxiously, taking hold of her wrist. Alfred scrambled out of bed, allowing Arthur to guide him over to her cot. Although very pale, her golden hair was arrayed around her like a lion mane. Proud. Strong, in a strange way.

"Mmph," she mumbled as her eyes fluttered open.

"C'mon, Pearl," Arthur coached from beside him.

"...wha?" she slurred, blinking up at them, "Alfred?" she asked softly as she squinted up at him.

"Hi, Pearl," Alfred greeted as his face split into a relieved smile, "Welcome back,"


	29. Chapter 29

"All right, Mat, get ready," Arthur ordered as he lowered the telescope from his eye. It had been just shy of four months since the events at the cave, and life on board the Tern was approaching as "normal" as was possible. At least, that was Arthur's opinion.

"Aye, Cap'n," Mat chimed with a crooked grin, bounding over to the awaiting group of men and giving them their orders.

Over three months had passed, and they had just managed to patch the gaping hole in the hull. Tom had led the project, directing Alfred and the other volunteers on ship from his perch on the ship's rail. His arm had healed nicely, but he still walked with a bit of a limp. Mat said it should clear up over time, but Arthur couldn't help but marvel at the dark irony of how he now resembled Ward.

Repairs aside, they hadn't had much luck with treasure-hunting, and supplies were running lower than Arthur liked. He had to find a ship to plunder--fast--before he had a mutiny on his hands. He had briefly entertained the idea of stocking up at a port, but he feared (much to his shame) that he would lose most his crew were they given a chance to leave in light of recent events.

This ship innocently bobbing on the foam-crested waves ahead of them was the answer to Arthur's prayers.

He looked down as the top of Alfred's head appeared from the stairwell up to the ship's wheel.

"Can you tell what kind of ship it is?" he asked excitedly as he joined Arthur up on the deck, "What country is it from?"

"It's French," Arthur answered with a smile as he handed the telescope over to Alfred, "And I believe we have ourselves a carrack,"

He paused, watching Alfred peer excitedly into the telescope with a studious frown. It was a relief to see him perk up again, to be genuinely happy about something. Alfred had been so absorbed by the horror of what had happened to the rest of the crew while he had been unconscious that he had withdrawn into himself, barely speaking even to Arthur for quite some time. He began skipping meals with the others, choosing instead to sneak into the galley at odd hours to grab food to take back to the cabin and eat.

It had taken a few weeks for Alfred to openly speak to the rest of the crew, taking careful steps to avoid them and insisting, when questioned, that he was simply busy and wanting to get his work done. But Arthur knew better, and he knew that his behavior had everything to do with guilt. It had taken gentle prodding from himself and Pearl before he finally began assimilating into the crew again, but it did little for the nightmares. They had finally ebbed as of late, but there were many nights where Alfred had woken up screaming. For the most part, Arthur had managed to calm him enough to where he would fall asleep again, but it was always fitful and never lasted long.

If one could call it "luck," it was, in a twisted way, a positive thing that Alfred and Pearl had experienced the same horror. She too was stricken with nightmares and fitful sleep, and the two of them had grown close as of late. Arthur was grateful that they could lean upon one another, though it bothered him that he was unable to help. They had become like siblings, almost, just as Arthur had always felt he and Pearl were.

He laughed softly, shaking his head. What a strange, ragtag little family the lot of them were.

"What?" Alfred demanded as he lowered the telescope, arching an eyebrow at him.

"Nothing, just thinking," Arthur answered as Alfred handed him the telescope, "Did you see how low to the water the ship was? Means it's _loaded_ with cargo," he added slyly as Alfred's face split into a grin.

He looked up as a shrill whistle pierced the air.

"Time to go, Love," Arthur instructed. Alfred nodded, dashing down the steps to man his assigned battle station. He watched him for a moment, thankful for Alfred finally having something to distract him, then returned his attention to the ship ahead of them. He cracked his knuckles and curled his fingers around the ship's wheel. God, how long had it been since they had plundered a ship? This was precisely what the crew needed to lift their spirits, he was sure of it.

"Here we go," he muttered to himself with a crooked grin.

* * *

Alfred stood beside Mat on the deck of the defeated French ship. It was larger than the Tern, but also much slower. They had managed to catch up to them easily with Arthur at the helm, and whoever was returning cannon fire apparently had lousy aim; not a single cannonball had managed to hit the Tern. One of them had come dangerously close, but left no damage. Mat did what he could with what little ammunition they had, but he had managed to break one of the masts. The crew had made quick work of boarding the French ship after that, leaping on board excitedly with pistols and swords raised.

He had been charged to help keep the enemy crew under control, which hadn't proven to be a difficult task thus far. They hadn't put up much of a fight after Sam had knocked two of them out and Gil had given a third a black eye. This, along with Mat firing warning shots at their feet, had quickly subdued them. Now the entire crew of the Tern had the lot of them surrounded on the main deck, save for Pearl and Tom. They had remained back at their ship to ensure that no stragglers from the enemy crew attempted to come on board.

He looked up as a familiar set of heavy footsteps approached the captain of the French ship.

"Well good morning!" Arthur greeted cheerily, "Lovely day, isn't it, gents?"

Alfred joined his fellow crewmen in laughing, watching Arthur walk up to the enemy captain with a smug smile. The man was about Arthur's height, with shoulder-length blonde hair and blue eyes. He glared at Arthur with a scowl, fists clenched at his sides. He was sharply dressed, with a cobalt blue coat and bright red trousers.

"And you, I presume, must be the captain," Arthur stated.

The man responded in very rapid French, narrowing his eyes into slits.

A very tense silence fell over them; Alfred had no idea what had been said, but it certainly hadn't sounded friendly. He blinked as Arthur folded his arms over his chest and responded with a retort of equal aggression, _in_ _French_.

Mat laughed, throwing his head back as Arthur continued and the Frenchman's jaw fell open.

"What's he saying?" Alfred asked as Mat howled.

"I'll tell you later," Mat answered between guffaws.

"Now, gents, let's have a look and see what we've got. Shall we?" Arthur asked in English (thank God), turning toward the crew.

Alfred watched as roughly half of the crew dispersed, searching the lower decks of the ship for loot. He remained on deck, walking over toward Arthur.

"Since when do you speak French?" Alfred teased, shaking his head.

"Eh, I must've picked it up somewhere," Arthur said with a dramatic shrug as Alfred laughed, "We've got everything under control up here...why don't you go take a look, see what you can find?" he added, gesturing toward the ladder Gil was bounding down that led below deck.

"All right," Alfred said with a nod as he took off after him.

* * *

Arthur looked out at the array of chests and crates his crewmen had retrieved from the lower decks. Textiles, various collections of silver from northern Spain, jewelry, porcelain, clothing...

"Quite the operation you've got going," Arthur mused as he retrieved a string of opalescent pearls from one of the chests and slid it through his fingers, "Just look at the variety, here...where were you headed?"

The captain didn't answer, choosing to glare at him silently instead.

"New Orleans, probably," Mat mused as he examined a brightly colored shirt from one of the crates, "based on the trajectory,"

"Hm," Arthur responded half-heartedly, "All right then, let's load all of this up,"

"CAPTAIN!" Gil cried from across the deck, lumbering toward them. He was dragging a slight young man by the arm, who was cursing at him in yet another language Alfred didn't know. German?

"CAPTAIN," Gil repeated breathlessly as he screeched to a halt in front of Arthur and yanked the other man over to stand in front of him, "Captain, ve have to take zis one vith us!"

Arthur arched an eyebrow at him, looking the other man over. He was quite small and thin, with a flyaway brown curl in his hair and vibrant violet eyes. He scowled at Gil over the top of his thin spectacles, then turned his anxious gaze onto Arthur.

"What's your name?" Arthur asked sternly.

"R-Roderich," he squeaked, "Roderich Edelstein,"

"And...you want him to come with us, _why_?" Arthur asked, turning back to Gil.

"He's a musician!" Gil piped excitedly, "Tell zhem vhat you play," he ordered, smacking Roderich's shoulder. He flinched, glaring at Gil as he rubbed his arm.

"I play _many_ instruments," he answered coolly with a distinctly Germanic accent, "Violin, piano, accordion--"

"ACCORDION!" Gil cried, jumping up and down excitedly, "Did you hear zhat?! He plays zhe fucking ACCORDION, Captain!"

Arthur sighed, arching an eyebrow at Gil as he continued to fidget like a little child.

"What else can you do?" Arthur asked, turning back to Roderich, "We don't have room for someone who can't pull his own weight on ship," he added with a frown.

"He doesn't want to go with _you-_ -" the French captain spat.

"I know how to work hard. I can be useful," Roderich responded quickly. The Frenchman blinked spastically at him, shaking his head in disbelief.

"W-what are you saying?" he demanded, throwing his hands up, "Our _agreement_ was that you--"

"Our agreement is _voided_ , Francis," Roderich snapped, turning to glare at the captain.

Arthur looked over at Mat, who shrugged; Arthur sighed.

"Well, I don't know--" Arthur began, frowning.

"An ACCORDION, captain!" Gil insisted, "PLEASE?" he asked, clasping his hands in front of him and shaking them in front of Arthur's face.

Arthur sighed again, rolling his eyes.

"Fine. But _you're_ responsible for him," Arthur conceded as Gil whooped excitedly, "One wrong move and he's out," he warned.

"Right! Right, of course!" Gil shouted as he grabbed Roderich by the arm and dragged him back over toward the Tern.

* * *

Alfred chuckled as he walked along the lantern-lit rail to the sounds of raucous, drunken singing and an accordion. He was donned in a navy blue coat he'd taken a liking to, along with a new pair of pants. They had all found items which appealed to them, varying from clothing to bolts of fabric, jewelry...the list went on and on. He had joined the others in digging through the French ship's cargo and drinking the wine Gil had discovered while looting, singing songs and making jokes.

For now, though, there was someone very particular he wanted to find.

Arthur was perched on the railing near the bow, staring out into the night with a wistful, far-off look upon his face. He looked tired, and Alfred guessed with a pang of guilt that he was to blame for most of it. He had been a mess for weeks, waking Arthur up with his nightmares. He hadn't been able to help it, but Arthur had been kind. He hadn't gotten agitated with him, and he had been instrumental in helping Pearl as well as Alfred try to sort things out after what had happened.

Alfred crept up behind him and slipped his arm around his waist. Arthur jumped and looked down; a sly grin slid across his face as he recognized who it was.

"Well hello there, Love," he murmured as he put his arm over Alfred's shoulders and drew him to his chest. Alfred looked up at him devilishly, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Hello yourself," he said as he craned his neck to kiss him. Arthur reciprocated, green eyes glinting with mischief as Alfred threw his hand behind Arthur's head to hold him in place. They separated, breathless.

"Are you drunk?" Arthur chuckled as he pulled Alfred's hips close to his.

"Nope," Alfred answered matter-of-factly as he laced his fingers behind Arthur's back, "But I _am_ feeling a might adventurous, Captain," he added with a devious smirk.

"You...sure?" Arthur asked uncertainly, looking him over. Alfred could barely recall the last time they'd been intimate...sometime before the events at the cave. _Months_ ago. Arthur hadn't pressed him, though, and for that he was grateful. And after all, good behavior should be rewarded, right?

"Positive," Alfred answered; Arthur grinned and kissed him again, but Alfred broke away from him and grabbed hold of his wrist. Arthur blinked at him in confusion as Alfred walked backward down the deck, pulling the captain along with him.

"All right, all right, I'm coming," Arthur laughed as he picked up the pace. Alfred snickered as he let go of his wrist and scooted backward along the deck, just out of Arthur's reach. Arthur's smile widened as he sped up, shaking his head.

"What do I have to do?" he teased, "Catch you?"

"Maybe," Alfred shrugged. He yelped as he tripped over something on the deck and stumbled-Arthur saw his chance and lunged forward, scooping Alfred up as he laughed uproariously.

"Nooo!" Alfred shouted between giggles as he squirmed.

"Gotcha now, Love," Arthur declared as he nuzzled his face into Alfred's neck and whirled him around, "No escape," he added darkly as he kissed him firmly on the lips. Alfred leaned into him, throwing his arms around his neck. Arthur hurried down the deck toward their cabin as Alfred laughed, coming to an abrupt halt as Pearl appeared from one of the stairwells.

"Whoa!" she yelped in surprise. Alfred felt his cheeks turning red as she grinned at him, then back at Arthur, "Well, don't mind me!" she said cheerily, throwing her hands up in mock surrender and stepping aside, "Have fun, you two!" she added as she headed down the deck.

Alfred looked up at Arthur, who looked back down at him for a moment before both of them erupted into laughter. After a few moments, Alfred leaned up and breathed into Arthur's ear.

"Let's go," he suggested. Arthur happily obeyed, practically sprinting down the deck and kicking the door to the cabin open. Alfred laughed as the captain slammed the door closed again with his heel and pushed him against it, kissing him fiercely. Alfred broke free, backing up into the cabin and licking his lips. Arthur cocked his head at him, smiling broadly as he slowly approached. Alfred backed up, blue eyes hungrily locked onto Arthur's green ones as his lower back bumped into the table at the far end of the room. Arthur jumped forward and pinned him against it, much to Alfred's delight as he yelped. He moaned as Arthur pressed his back onto the table, leaning over him with a positively wicked smile.

"No escape, Love," Arthur whispered, making Alfred shudder. He leaned down and unbuttoned Alfred's shirt, exploring his neck and chest with his tongue. Alfred sighed as he ran his hands over Arthur's back and removed his hat; Arthur jumped up and threw him a surprised look as he felt it leave his head. Alfred grinned up at him, holding the hat just out of the other man's reach.

"Want it?" Alfred teased.

"Want what? You, or the hat?" Arthur asked playfully as he nipped at Alfred's chest and walked his fingertips along the length of Alfred's outstretched arm. Alfred moaned and pressed against him, pushing off of the table in an attempt to get up. Arthur noticed the movement and swiftly pushed him back down again.

"Heh..." Alfred breathed as he felt the other man's hand reach his palm. He smiled as he realized the hat was still just out of Arthur's reach, dangling precariously from his fingertips.

"You little devil," Arthur scolded with a cockeyed smile, looking at him sideways before lunging for the hat. Alfred saw his advantage and slid out from beneath him, scooting past his outstretched arm and donning the hat triumphantly. Arthur licked his lips excitedly as his face split into a lecherous smile.

"Come and get it," Alfred challenged as he bolted for the other end of the cabin. Arthur followed close behind and easily subdued him, pinning him to the far wall by the bookshelf and kissing him aggressively. He pulled the hat from Alfred's head and replaced it onto his own with a victorious smile. Alfred made an attempt to grab it again, but Arthur grabbed his wrists and slammed them onto the wall on either side of him with a low growl. Alfred shuddered as Arthur closed the distance between the two of them, rubbing up against him determinedly. He craned his neck upward as Arthur ran his lips along his jawbone, his neck, onto his chest...

"H-hell yes," Alfred moaned between gasps as the movement against his hips continued, his eyes falling closed as he-

His eyes flew open as Arthur abruptly stopped, grinning at him smugly as he took a few steps backward.

" _Your_ turn," he said lowly as he curled his index finger at Alfred seductively, "C'mere," he purred. Alfred sprang off of the wall with a strangled cry and ran straight into the captain's awaiting arms. He knocked him off-balance and the two of them tumbled onto the floor. Arthur burst into laughter, giving Alfred the opportunity to roll on top of him and pin him down. God, Arthur was beautiful. He hadn't thought about that in quite some time, how those green eyes sparkled when he laughed...

"What's so funny?" he teased, sliding Arthur's red jacket aside and unbuttoning his shirt.

"Nothing," Arthur breathed, sliding his hands around Alfred's waist and cupping his rear with a low growl, "Nothing, Love,"

"Good," Alfred answered with a smirk, massaging Arthur's chest and watching him bite down on his lip.

"Hey, none of that," Alfred warned, "I wanna _hear_ you,"

He ground his hips against Arthur's and was rewarded with a rather loud groan; Alfred was more than just a little proud of how hard the captain already was, all because of him...

"Much better," he stated, leaning down and sliding his tongue across Arthur's exposed chest and receiving an approving sigh in return. He froze as he reached the man's collarbone, sitting up and looking into his eyes.

"Arthur...can I...?" he managed between gasps.

"Only if I can, too," Arthur warned breathlessly, stealing a look above Alfred's forehead. Alfred nodded enthusiastically as he dove his face into Arthur's collarbone, kissing what was left of the bruise from before and increasing the pace on his hips. Arthur cried out and moved beneath him, unsteadily reaching out and finding the infernal tuft of hair atop Alfred's head. Alfred gasped and shuddered as slim fingertips moved up and down the stalk. Alfred put his focus into Arthur's collarbone, prodding it with his fingers.

Alfred quickly reached his climax, sinking onto Arthur and gasping for air. Arthur, however, wasn't quite finished. He rolled Alfred beneath him with a grunt and pressed his hands into the floorboards, then leaned down and ran his tongue along Alfred's cowlick. Alfred gasped, blue eyes wide as Arthur finished, the feathers from his decorated hat falling softly onto his face.

"D-don't stop there," Alfred muttered, forcing Arthur into a sitting position on top of him.

"Alfred...?" Arthur breathed, green eyes beautiful and hazy as Alfred liberated him from his jacket and shirt. Arthur hummed softly as he stripped Alfred of his clothes as well, shimmying out of his trousers so they were both bare...save for Arthur's hat. Alfred lunged forward and clambered on top of Arthur, kissing him fiercely as he lowered him onto the floor.

Before Alfred knew what had happened, Arthur was walking across the room with him in his arms, and his legs were wrapped around Arthur's waist. Alfred whimpered with expectation as Arthur pressed his back into the mattress. Arthur leaned down and very deliberately, agonizingly slowly began kissing every last inch of his exposed flesh. Alfred yelped and squirmed beneath him, shivering as the other man's lips caressed him gently.

Alfred moaned (probably rather lewdly, though he lacked the presence of mind to tame it), clumsily reaching for Arthur's face. He arched his back and mumbled nonsense as Arthur restrained his hands, interlacing his fingers with his and pressing them firmly into the mattress. Arthur sighed and muttered his name as he slid his tongue over Alfred's abdomen, moving down and--

"Arthur!" Alfred shouted as the man's breath ghosted over what attentively lay below his navel. Arthur chuckled darkly as he slid upward and looked down into Alfred's face, which Alfred was certain was flushed scarlet. Arthur was flushed, too, he noted with a thrill as Arthur kissed him deeply, the fronds from his hat falling delicately into Alfred's face. The crimson beads Alfred had bought for him tinkled against one another playfully as Arthur went to take the hat off, but Alfred stopped him.

"N-no," he whimpered, "Leave it on,"

Arthur grinned at him devilishly and leaned down, kissing his neck as he worked his way up to Alfred's right earlobe.

"Are you ready, Love?" Arthur breathed into his ear as he shifted his hips. Alfred yelped excitedly; he knew what that meant.

"Oh, _hell yes_ ," Alfred moaned, bucking his hips as Arthur groaned, " _Yes_ , Arthur,"

To say that it had been good would be an understatement. Alfred had just about shouted himself hoarse, thrashing about wildly as they went at it. Arthur had been louder than usual too, he noted with excitement, as Alfred had steadily driven him over the edge...quite literally. The both of them had tumbled off of the bed and ended up on the floor again, laughing. Arthur had paused to make certain Alfred wasn't harmed before enthusiastically picking up where they had left off, though. What a "gentleman."

Finally, Arthur held him to his chest where they lay on the floorboards, kissing the top of his head and murmuring to him softly. Alfred nuzzled into his chest and draped his arm over the captain, blowing the plume of feathers from Arthur's hat out of his face. Arthur snickered, and Alfred burst out into a peal of laughter.

"You and your fuckin' hat," Alfred murmured.

"Hey, you were the one who said to leave it on," Arthur pointed out, his voice husky and hoarse.

"True," Alfred sighed as his eyes fell closed of their own accord. Arthur shifted, causing him to pry his eyes open. Arthur was looking down at him, grinning tiredly.

"We probably shouldn't spend the night on the floor," he advised as he pushed Alfred into a sitting position.

"Mmm...guess you're right," Alfred slurred tiredly as Arthur hoisted him up off of the floor and half-carried him into bed, setting him down gently on the mattress before settling down beside him.

"Thanks," Alfred mumbled as Arthur removed his glasses.

"Sure, Love," Arthur breathed as he examined the glasses, "Though we probably should've taken these off of you first...they're all mangled," he noted.

"Eh, I'll fix 'em later," Alfred yawned. Arthur wrapped his arms around him and drew him close as he fell asleep.

* * *

Pearl clutched the string of pearls Arthur had given to her from the French ship, looping them around her fingertips as she stared out into the night sky. As happy as she was that the crew had managed to take down a ship (and that Arthur and Alfred were finally enjoying one another after all of this time), something...bothered her. Something sinister, something she couldn't quite place.

She found herself drawn to the rail, staring out into the blackness as the salty wind caressed her face. Something was...pulling at her, drawing her closer. It was as if she was standing on a precipice above a churning whirlpool, drawn into the hypnotic swirl of the rushing water. She knew that if she moved forward, it would consume her, draw her into the depths, never to return.

But it...called to her, somehow. Something familiar, and it filled her with dread.

It wasn't possible. That...thing was no more. Arthur had said so himself, said he had seen it disappear into the sky. They were safe. _She_ was safe.

..wasn't she?

She turned away, forcing herself to look out onto the lantern-lit celebration taking place on the deck. Gil's new friend was playing an accordion, filling the ship with music and Gil's terribly off-kilter singing.

It simply wasn't possible.

She nearly leapt out of her skin as a hand clapped her on the shoulder.

"Whoa, you all right?" Mat asked uncertainly, removing his hand as she jumped.

"I'm fine," she insisted, looking over at him and smiling. The strange feeling was fading, now. Ebbing into the darkness as she drew a deep breath and released it.

"...you sure?" Mat asked as he arched an eyebrow at her.

"Yeah," she said with a nod. She winced as Gil hit a particularly sour note, trailing off into laughter as the accordion faltered, "Shall we teach Gil how to sing?" she joked.

"Good luck with that," Mat snorted, shaking his head and walking out toward the others.

She joined him, sighing in relief as the feeling of dread passed.

She didn't look back.

She didn't dare.

* * *

Notes: A carrack was a popular build of ship for transporting goods back in the day. They were streamlined into what became known as "galleons," which were much faster than carracks and could hold a significant amount of cargo.

Also: I've finally finished this fic! This was a very long journey--thanks again to my buds (especially the lovely Exulansis(t)) for supporting the writing and posting of this monster of a story. I do plan on writing a short piece on Roderich's side of the story, so stay tuned for that :)  I kind of love the idea of Roderich rocking out on an accordion. You're welcome, Gil. 


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